Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant
by JBean210
Summary: A vampire puts the bite on Harry, but it's for a good cause: he wants Harry to destroy Voldemort, even if it kills him. Ron and Hermione are also drawn into the adventure even as Harry tries to protect them.
1. Interlude with the Vampire

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter One  
>"<strong>Interlude with the Vampire"<strong>

Published beginning September 16, 2011

A/N Summary: A vampire puts the bite on Harry (sorry for the pun), but it's for a good cause - he wants Harry to destroy Voldemort, even if it kills him.

Harry Potter was staring intently at Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy had just tried to ingratiate himself with Professor Slughorn after the Potions teacher had foregone any punishment for Malfoy (to Mr. Filch's outraged disappointment) after the blond-haired Slytherin tried to crash Professor Slughorn's Christmas party. Both Malfoy and Snape, who was standing next to him, looked unhappy about something, but what that might be Harry could not tell.

"It's nothing, nothing," Slughorn was saying, waving away Malfoy's unctuous thanks. "I did know your grandfather, after all…" he hiccupped, then covered his mouth with a beefy hand. "Excuse," he muttered almost inaudibly.

"He always spoke very highly of you, sir," Malfoy said, quickly nodding agreement. "Said you were the best potion-maker he'd ever known..."

Harry continued to stare. He hadn't seen Malfoy up close for quite some time; now he noticed that Malfoy had developed dark shadows beneath his eyes, and his skin had a grayish tinge to it. What might he have been doing for the past few months, since their altercation on the Hogwarts Express?

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," Snape said suddenly.

"Now, Severus," said Slughorn, hiccupping again, "it's Christmas, don't be too hard —"

Snape fixed the Potions Master with an imperious stare. "I am his Head of House, and I shall decide how hard, or otherwise, to be," Snape said curtly. He turned to Malfoy. "Follow me, Draco."

They left, Snape leading the way, Malfoy looking resentful. Harry stood there for a moment, pondering what interesting things they might talk about on their way back to Snape's office, then made a decision. He leaned over to Luna and said, softly, "I'll be back in a bit, Luna…er — bathroom."

Luna gave him a cheerful smile, "All right," she said, and disappeared into the throng of people who'd begun milling about after the business with Malfoy was over. Harry smiled to himself and followed the two Slytherins out into the corridor. It was easy, once out of the party, to pull his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and throw it over himself, for the corridor was quite deserted. Now all he had to do was find Snape and Malfoy, a more difficult prospect. Harry ran down the corridor, the noise of his feet masked by the music and loud talk still issuing from Slughorn's office behind him. Perhaps Snape had taken Malfoy to his office in the dungeons ... or perhaps he was escorting him back to the Slytherin common room. . . . Harry pressed his ear against door after door as he dashed down the corridor until, with a great jolt of excitement he crouched down to the keyhole of the last classroom in the corridor and heard voices.

"I hope you are telling the truth," Snape was saying, "Because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" Malfoy said, angrily. "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about — don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work — I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "I see… your Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from _him_, I just don't want you butting in!" Harry pressed his ear still more closely against the keyhole. . . . What had happened to make Malfoy speak to Snape like this — Snape, toward whom he had always shown respect, even liking?

There was a touch on Harry's shoulder and he jerked violently, startled. Whirling around, he saw Luna crouched behind him, staring directly at where he was, hidden beneath the Cloak, with her wide, protuberant eyes. Harry quickly threw the Cloak over Luna, to hide her as well. Draco and Snape were still arguing, so they evidently hadn't heard anything.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered furiously in her ear, angry that she had complicated the situation with her unwanted presence.

Luna did not seem discomfited by his anger. "Professor Trelawney went to find some more cooking sherry," she whispered back. "I thought I would follow you, since it was obvious you were going to follow Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape."

"Where'd you get _that_ idea?" Harry challenged her.

"The fact that you wanted to leave the party immediately after they did was a rather glaring clue," Luna answered matter-of-factly. "I thought at first I would leave you to it, but without Professor Trelawney to talk to…you were my next choice." She smiled brightly at him.

Harry shrugged, having nothing to say to that. He put a finger over his mouth, motioning for her to be quiet, and leaned in close to the keyhole once again.

"You'd better stop telling me to come to your office then!" Malfoy was saying.

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low now that Harry had to push his ear very hard against the keyhole to hear. "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco —"

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he —"

"What are they talking about?" Luna suddenly whispered in his ear. "Is it the Rotfang Conspiracy?" Harry spared her an incredulous look before tapping his forefinger furiously on his lips again, signaling her to be quiet. He pressed his ear back against the keyhole.

"If you tell me what you are trying to do, I can assist you ..." Snape began.

Malfoy cut him off angrily. "I have all the assistance I need, thanks, I'm not alone!"

"You were certainly alone tonight," Snape pointed out, inexorably. "Which was foolish in the extreme, wandering the corridors without lookouts or backup, these are elementary mistakes —"

"I would've had Crabbe and Goyle with me if you hadn't put them in detention!" Malfoy said, quite loudly.

"Keep your voice down!" Snape spat. "If your friends Crabbe and Goyle intend to pass their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. this time around, they will need to work a little harder than they are doing at pres—"

"What does it matter?" Malfoy said, and Harry could hear both excitement and resignation in his voice. "Defense Against the Dark Arts — it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like any of us need protecting against the Dark Arts —"

Luna was tapping Harry urgently on the shoulder. Aggravated, he looked around at her again. "_What_?" he snapped, his voice just above a whisper.

"I thought I saw someone down the hall," Luna said, pointing back in the direction of Professor Slughorn's office. Harry looked, but saw no one in the corridor with them.

"I don't see anybody," he whispered. A sudden thought occurred to him. "How did you find _me_, anyway?"

"I was using my set of Spectrespecs to track you," Luna whispered, pulling a pair out of her robe. "Also, I saw your shoes sticking out from beneath your Cloak."

Harry made a mental note to be more careful using the Invisibility Cloak in the future, the pressed his ear to the keyhole once again.

"You are being incautious," Snape was saying. "Wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle —"

"They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!"

"Then why not confide in me, and I can —"

"I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!"

There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but —"

The sound of footsteps moving toward the door gave Harry barely a second to pull himself and Luna out of the way before it burst open and Malfoy strode away down the corridor, back the way they'd come. Harry, fearful that Snape might discover them if they remained near the classroom door, tapped Luna on the shoulder and pointed after Malfoy. She nodded and they began moving down the corridor after him.

They were both crouched over, moving as quickly as they could, but it was not fast enough. If Snape came after Malfoy they ran the risk he would hear their footsteps. Harry stopped for a moment, glancing back at the now-open classroom door. He could see a shadow moving in the doorway behind them, as if Snape were approaching the door. Harry looked around frantically for some place they could hide.

Luna suddenly pointed to a nearby open door. "How about there?" she whispered. Harry nodded and the pair of them ducked quickly inside. They found themselves in a spacious balcony area overlooking one of the castle's courtyards. It was at least twice the size of the Potions classroom. Various planters and pots were scattered about the balcony, along with several benches for sitting. It was devoid of snow, however— which was fortunate, for if there had been any their footsteps would have been clearly visible. Harry moved them toward a shadowy area along the wall, hoping Snape hadn't seen anything before they ran into the room.

"I don't think Professor Snape is a part of the Rotfang conspiracy," Luna whispered unexpectedly. "He would have to be a Ministry official. Perhaps he's a spy for Minister Fudge and his Gringotts Takeover conspiracy."

"W-what?" Harry stuttered, almost too loudly. In a quieter voice, he pointed out, "Luna, Fudge isn't even Minister of Magic now — he was replaced by Scrimgeour several months ago!"

"I'm sure that's what he wants everyone to believe," Luna whispered serenely, a knowing smile on her face. "He's — _mmph_!"

Harry had clamped a hand over her mouth; a shadow had appeared in the doorway of the balcony. Harry's worst fear had come to pass: Snape had heard them!

Or had he? The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was scanning the room slowly, his expression unfathomable. Looking into his dark eyes, this was the only time Harry really felt safe from Snape's Legilimency — when he was hidden beneath his Invisibility Cloak. He held an arm protectively across Luna's shoulders, keeping her from moving.

Snape finished his examination of the balcony, and began to turn away, to leave. Suddenly he spun back, drawing his wand and pointing it into the room. "_Homenum Revelio_!" he canted forcefully. At that same moment there was a sudden gust of air that brushed the side of the Invisibility Cloak, and a flash of light between them and Snape. Harry blinked. Someone was standing between them now, someone he hadn't seen until just this moment. Luna turned to him, her mouth open, and he put his hand quickly across it again, shaking his head.

"Is that you, Potter?" Snape was still holding his wand pointed ahead of him. "Under your Invisibility Cloak, perhaps? You may as well come out — it makes little difference to me whether I give you detention now or when we return from the Christmas break —"

Snape stopped speaking and Harry watched as the person who had stepped in front of them moved from the shadows into the evening light. Tall and thin, he regarded Snape without speaking. Now able to see him from a better angle, Harry recognized who it was immediately.

Sanguini. The vampire was holding a golden goblet, from Slughorn's party, in one hand. As he and Snape stared at one another, he casually sipped from it.

Snape frowned. "Sanguini, I presume. You should return to Professor Slughorn's party," he told the vampire. "Your master will be wondering where you are."

"I will return shortly," Sanguini answered. His voice was low and hollow, like a kettledrum. "I prefer to finish my blood wine alone."

Snape didn't move. "How is it," he asked, "That you were detected by my Human Revealment Charm? You are a vampire."

Sanguini slowly spread his arms; a gesture of indifference. "Worple does not always wish me to appear in public as a vampire; he has several spells on me that give a false human reading for the Revealment Charm. Apparently he forgot to cancel the spells the last time he cast them."

Snape slowly put his wand away as he turned to leave once again. He turned back, however, at the last moment. "Be sure and remind him to do so," he said. "I will let him know where you are." He walked away up the corridor.

Sanguini turned and sat down on a bench next to where Harry and Luna were crouching. He almost seemed to chuckle to himself as he took another sip from the goblet. A cigarette suddenly popped out of his mouth, and he took a deep drag on it, sighed contentedly, then stubbed it out on the bench and dropped it into a nearby planter. He turned to look at the spot where Harry and Luna were crouched.

"I hope you are grateful that I threw off his suspicions," the vampire said, addressing empty air but looking directly at Harry. "Since you were spying on him, after all — him and that beautiful little blond student of his."

Harry wasn't sure what to think about what had just happened, but Luna was gazing at Sanguini with fascination in her eyes. He threw the Invisibility Cloak off of them. "Thanks," he said, simply. "It would have gone bad if he'd caught us."

"I'm sure," Sanguini drawled, draining the rest of the goblet. He stood, swaying a bit as he straightened his old-fashioned vest. "I should return —"

"Wait," Luna suddenly spoke. "You're a vampire, is that right?"

Sanguini nodded.

"How is it, then," Luna continued. "That your appearance is nothing like Minister Scrimgeour's?" Harry groaned — not _this_ again!

Sanguini regarded her for a long moment, the corner of his pale-lipped mouth twitching in amusement. "Do you think Rufus Scrimgeour is a vampire?" he asked.

"Of course," Luna said, as if it were a fact as certain as the sun rising in the east. "My father wrote an extensive article on him for the _Quibbler_ when he first came into office."

"Sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but Rufus Scrimgeour is no more a vampire than your friend Harry Potter here is," Sanguini pointed out. He looked toward the door.

"What were you doing out here?" Harry asked quickly, hoping to keep him talking for a few more minutes. There was something strange and interesting about this vampire, the first one Harry had ever met or talked to.

"Just having a smoke," Sanguini answered offhandedly.

"I thought vampires didn't smoke," Luna said.

Sanguini looked at her, smiling, though his teeth didn't show. "Most don't," he agreed. "There's no enjoyment in it since vampires have no sense of taste — except for blood," he added, with a grin that _did_ show his teeth this time.

"But you _did_ seem to enjoy it," Harry pointed out. "You looked happy as you took that final puff."

Sanguini chuckled once again. "Very observant of you, Mr. Potter. Would you like to know a secret?" he asked, swaying a bit as he turned to face them. Both Harry and Luna nodded. "I'm only a half-vampire," he said, in a stage whisper.

"A _half_-vampire?" Harry looked dubious. "What d'you mean?"

"I'm like a vampire's assistant, a helper or servant," Sanguini amplified. "Excuse me," he said as he stifled a hiccup.

"I've never heard of a 'half'-vampire _or_ a vampire's assistant," Harry said, now doubtful.

Luna looked at Harry with eyebrows raised over her bulging eyes. "That's hardly proof that they don't exist, is it?" she pointed out.

Sanguini waved a pale hand dismissively. "It's not something we tell the Wizarding community. That's why it's called a _secret_, you know. The only other known half-vampire is Lorcan d'Eath, but he is little more than a glory hound. No one really believes he is 'part-vampire' — they think he's a human vamping as if he were one." Sanguini chuckled at his own joke.

"So why tell us?" Harry asked. He didn't understand why Sanguini was doing this, unless the blood wine was making him drunk, somehow.

"I admired the way you stood up to Eldred Worple earlier, when he was pressuring you for a book deal," Sanguini answered. "You didn't give in to him in spite of all the gold he suggested you would gain. That shows true strength of character." Harry said nothing; gold didn't mean anything to him one way or the other — his concern was with the shabby way he'd been treated by the press the last few years, first by Rita Skeeter, and later by the _Prophet_. Both had pilloried him, calling into question his actions, his motives, even his sanity at times. The only publication that had given him a fair shake was _The Quibbler_, and only because Hermione had forced Skeeter into writing a sympathetic article for Xenophilius Lovegood to publish.

Sanguini covered another hiccup. "I must be going," he said, swaying slightly as he walked to the door. "Eldred will be worried I'm off having a snack." He smiled broadly, showing his teeth again, in obvious implication of what was meant by "snack."

Harry unconsciously reached for his neck, and the half-vampire laughed. "Don't worry, Harry. I don't drink human blood — yet. But I do enjoy a good blood pudding."

"I do too!" Luna said, nodding eagerly. "Daddy makes it with bloodfruit plants."

Sanguini merely smiled, but the look on his face as he stared at Luna reminded Harry of the look he'd given the group of teenage girls standing nearby the vampire at Slughorn's party, whispering curiously to one another. Sanguini had appeared ready to slip away with them until Eldred Worple stopped him, handing Sanguini a pasty instead.

"I must be going," Sanguini said again. He nodded to Luna. "Farewell, Miss," then turned to Harry. "Farewell, Harry Potter. We may meet again sometime." A moment later he was gone, before Harry could say anything.

"That was interesting," Luna said, sounding unusually pensive, at least for Luna. "I wonder if he would like to be interviewed by Daddy — I'm sure he would be very interested to hear his ideas about Minister Scrimgeour."

"I don't know," Harry said, but privately he sincerely doubted it. "We'd better get back to our common rooms," he said, pulling the Invisibility Cloak over the two of them.

"Don't you want to make sure Hermione managed to stay away from Cormac McLaggen?" she asked, curiously. "She seemed quite unhappy with her choice of date for attending the party — as did you," she added, with her penchant for speaking uncomfortable truths bluntly.

"Er — I'm sure she's already back in the common room," Harry hedged. Truthfully, he didn't want to go back to Slughorn's party, especially if Eldred Worple was still there. The man had seemed quite determined to rope him into some kind of book deal. In addition, Ginny was there with Dean Thomas, though Harry had not had so much as a chance to wave at her across Slughorn's office. She had seemed quite attentive to Dean, which frustrated Harry in some vague way. He did hope Hermione managed to avoid McLaggen for the rest of the evening.

They walked up to the fifth floor, where the entrance to Ravenclaw's common room was located: a long, winding spiral staircase leading upwards into the tower. After making sure no one else was present, Harry took the Invisibility Cloak off them. Luna smiled at him but made no move to leave. Harry, who still half-regretted that he'd asked her to go the Slughorn's party with him, fidgeted awkwardly for several moments. "Er, well, thanks again for going with me, Luna," he finally said, feeling stupid. "I _am_ happy you went with me."

"I was happy to go with you as a friend, Harry," Luna replied. It was the third time she had mentioned "as a friend" to him; Harry was beginning to wonder why she kept saying that. "Well, I'll see you next year," she said at last, turning toward the door to Ravenclaw Tower.

"Uh, Luna…" Harry didn't know why he called her back. There were a lot of ideas jumbled up in his mind from just the past few hours: Malfoy and Snape's discussion about what Malfoy was doing; Snape making an Unbreakable Vow with his mother; the conversation with Sanguini and what he meant by saying he was a "half-vampire." In spite of Luna's comment, Harry was pretty sure there was no such thing. He remembered one of the Chocolate Frog Cards he'd seen, the one with Lorcan d'Eath on it. D'Eath had been identified as a "part-vampire," though it was very vague on just what a part-vampire was. He had never heard of anyone else being identified as a "half-vampire." "I'm — I'm really glad we had a chance to, to spend some time together."

"I am, too," Luna said, beaming at him. An idea seemed to occur to her. "If you're going to the Burrow, do you think you might come over to visit Daddy and me during the Christmas break? We're only a few miles from Ottery St. Catchpole, you know."

Harry found himself nodding, though he was not too sure what he thought about that idea. "I'll try," he said, hoping that wasn't too much of a promise.

Luna nodded, still smiling. "I can make a Dirigible Plum pudding — it's quite tasty, and Daddy says it helps one's ability to accept the extraordinary."

"That — that would be fine," Harry agreed, haltingly.

"Have a Happy Christmas, then," Luna said, and put a hand lightly on his shoulder, then leaning up to give him a peck on the cheek. She smiled at him once more, then turned and skipped through the doorway to Ravenclaw Tower.

Harry blinked, then put a hand over his cheek where Luna had kissed him. _Just a friend_? he wondered. He wasn't so sure, anymore. He threw the Invisibility Cloak back over himself and headed up to the Gryffindor common room.

=ooo=

When Harry woke up the next morning, he found Ron's bed empty, though he'd been there, asleep and snoring, when Harry entered their dorm room after leaving Luna at Ravenclaw Tower. Harry had been anticipating talking with Ron about some of what he'd seen and heard last night, both about the date with Luna and his eavesdropping on Snape and Malfoy's conversation, but he would have to save that for later, perhaps when they were on the Hogwarts Express later today.

When Harry had last seen Ron, at dinner last night, he'd seemed stunned by the news that Hermione was going to the Christmas party with Cormac McLaggen; he probably hadn't heard yet that she'd had an absolutely dreadful time with him. But then, Harry had watched as Hermione rubbed Ron's nose in it last night at dinner, so he might not be on speaking terms with her right now.

Harry dressed and went down to the Great Hall, where breakfast was already in progress. Ron, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan were sitting together, discussing Quidditch, notably Britain's leading teams for that year. Further down the table Harry saw Hermione sitting with Parvati Patil and Ginny. Ginny glanced up and nodded at Harry, and he nodded back, but decided not to intrude. He sat down next to Dean and Seamus, across from Ron.

"All right there, Harry?" Dean grinned, giving him a clap on the back. "How was your date with Loony Lovegood?"

"Don't call her that, Dean," Harry replied, coolly. "Luna's — well, she's nice. We had a good time at the party last night."

"Oh re-e-e-ally…" Dean and Seamus exchanged knowing glances. "So cough up, then," Dean said, coaxingly. "What happened after?"

"Nothing happened!" Harry snapped, more sharply than he'd intended. He'd noticed that Ron was staring at him as well, though his look was more penetrating than Dean or Seamus's. "We just went to the party, then walked around the castle for a while before I took her back to Ravenclaw Tower!"

Seamus and Dean both looked as if they imagined much more had happened on that "walk" than Harry was letting on. Since Peeves had spread the news yesterday that Harry was taking Luna Lovegood to Slughorn's party, he'd noticed that an awful lot of girls start to whisper with one another whenever he walked by them, and the male students had begun grinning at him like idiots. It was almost worse than when everyone in school had hated him for something or another, whether it had been his use of Parseltongue in the first Dueling Club, in second year, or when his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire in fourth year. Fifth year wasn't even worth thinking about.

Dean bolted down the rest of his breakfast. "Well, gotta go," he said, as he and Seamus stood to leave. "Keep up the good work, mate," he said happily, again clapping Harry heartily on the back. "See you after the break." They both walked out of the Great Hall.

Harry stared down at his breakfast. Quite unconsciously, he'd piled it full, almost overflowing, with fried eggs, bacon and sausages, and fried potatoes; a large goblet of pumpkin juice was next to his plate. Looking up, he caught Ron staring at him. "Work up an appetite last night, Harry?" Ron asked, a tinge of irony in his voice. "I thought you'd be full from dinner and all the food you had at Slughorn's party last night."

"Don't start," Harry muttered. He jabbed at his eggs, not really hungry anymore.

"'Don't start?'" Ron echoed, mockingly. "What, aren't you going to tell me what a bloody _wonderful_ time you an' Hermione had at Slughorn's party last night?"

"Whyn't you ask her?" Harry replied, sullenly. He was tired of Ron always acting like such a git this year: first, Harry had to trick him into believing he was a good Keeper for their first Quidditch match by pretending to give him a dose of Felix Felicis; then, after the match, he began snogging Lavender Brown, right in front of Hermione, making her cry and run away from the celebration; later, she attacked Ron with a flock of conjured birds.

"I tried!" Ron jerked his head down the table, toward where Hermione and Ginny were sitting. "I went down there this morning and tried to sit by them, but Ginny just shook her head and waved me away, like I had spattergroit or something."

"That reminds me," Harry pretended to look around the room searchingly. "Where's your girlfriend Lavender? I thought you and her would be saying your 'goodbyes' by now." He made a snogging noise with his lips.

"Don't start on _that_," Ron said, warningly, pointing his fork at Harry.

"Then don't try to get me to spill about Hermione or me at the party," Harry fired back. The two stared angrily at one another, then Harry looked away and went back to pushing food around his plate, saying nothing. Ron stared at him for another long moment, then went back to eating; evidently being in a foul mood didn't affect _his_ appetite, Harry silently observed.

The next time Harry glanced down the table, Hermione, Parvati and Ginny were gone. He hadn't seen them leave; they must not have walked past him and Ron on their way out. He pushed his nearly-full plate away, then stood. "I'm going to get ready for the train," he announced to Ron.

"Fine," Ron muttered. "See you later, then." He didn't look up at Harry this time.

"Fine, then," Harry answered, after a moment. He walked away, through the Entrance Hall and up to Gryffindor Tower, to his dorm room, to pack up a rucksack with clothes and his book _Advanced Potion-Making_, for further study while on holiday. He was just finishing packing when Neville Longbottom walked into the dormitory.

"Hi, Harry," Neville said, walking over to his own bed. "Getting ready for the Hogwarts Express?"

Harry nodded, fastening the clasp on his rucksack.

"Er — how was the Christmas party?" Neville asked, in a rushed tone, as if he could hardly wait to get the question out.

Harry looked up at him. "It was okay," he shrugged. "Met a vampire there, someone named Sanguini." Neville's eyes widened.

"A real _vampire_?" he breathed, excitement in his voice. "Did — did you see him drink anyone's b-blood?"

"No," Harry answered, matter-of-factly. "But he did put away a bit of blood wine." _Quite a bit_, Harry added to himself, if Sanguini's behavior on the balcony had been any indication.

"I thought vampires could only drink blood," Neville looked confused. "They don't eat, do they? Except blood-flavored lollypops, I guess."

"I dunno," Harry said, hoisting his rucksack over his shoulder and grabbing his coat off his bed. "Well, see you later, Neville — I'm going down to the Entrance Hall to wait for the carriages to Hogsmeade Station."

"Okay, Harry," Neville nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but only added, "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Neville," Harry replied, not really feeling the sentiment, and left the room. There was no one in the common room he felt like saying goodbye to, so Harry stepped through the portrait hole and slouched along the corridors and down the staircases until he came to the main staircase leading to the Entrance Hall.

He glanced at his watch. It would be several minutes before the carriages would begin taking students to the Hogwarts Express, so he dropped his rucksack and coat on the bottom step and sat down. A few other students were in the Entrance Hall already, talking amongst themselves. Harry didn't feel much like talking, however. It was beginning to feel like most people were avoiding him; Neville was the only person he'd talked to this morning, other than the awkward conversation with Ron and Dean and Seamus taking the mickey out of him about Luna.

Well, it didn't matter much, Harry decided. He and Ron would probably patch things up on the train ride home. Maybe he could even squeeze in a conversation with Hermione, tell her what happened after he and Luna left the party, meeting Sanguini in the courtyard balcony and that business with Malfoy and Snape. She would know something about vampires, after all, even if she didn't think Draco had become a Death Eater, like Harry did.

"Hi, Harry." Harry looked up, surprised that someone was speaking to him. He almost flinched when he realized it was Lavender Brown. "Ready for Christmas break?" Lavender asked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, trying to be more pleasant than he felt. "How about you?"

"Oh yes, I can use it!" Lavender nodded fervently. To Harry's dismay, she sat down on the step next to him, placing her coat and bag next to his. She smiled at him, a bit awkwardly it seemed to Harry, and asked, trying to sound casual, "I'm sending a Christmas present to Won-Won… would you like to know what it is?"

_Not really_, Harry thought, but he didn't want to hurt Lavender's feelings. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's a gold chain with — well, with something hanging from it," she said, suddenly demur. "I'm just sure he'll love it, though!"

Harry nodded, hoping that she'd take that as him being the least bit interested.

"So, how was your date with Luna Lovegood?" Lavender asked, curiously. "I heard you two left the party early," she added, with a questioning look on her face that nevertheless reminded him of the looks he'd seen on Dean and Seamus.

"It went fine," Harry said, curtly, beginning to wish he had made sure Peeves wasn't around before asking Luna to the party. "We left early so we could get ready for the train ride home and get some sleep."

Lavender nodded, seemingly happy to get that question out of the way and go back to her primary concern. "Are you staying with Won-Won over Christmas?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, happy to be off the subject of him and Luna.

"Is…_she_…going to be there?" The way Lavender said "she" made it clear to Harry who she meant.

Harry was silent for several seconds. _Was_ Hermione coming to the Burrow? Harry wasn't entirely sure, though he would have guessed she was if he hadn't been asked just now. "Um, I don't know," he answered, honestly. "I haven't heard one way or another."

Lavender put on a pouting expression. "I just know she wants to steal him back, now that I have him," she muttered, more to herself than Harry. "But she can't please him the way _I_ can — she's nothing but a cold fish, a bookworm!" She caught Harry's expression and added, "Oh, I know she's your friend too, Harry — but she doesn't think of you that way. You're more of a, well, like a brother to her than anything else, you know. She talked about you _way_ more than she ever did about Won-Won!"

Lavender suddenly looked up and waved. "Oh, there's Parvati! Hi, Parvati!" she exclaimed, grabbing her bag and coat off the steps. "Harry, I'll see you next year, have a Happy Christmas! Tell Won-Won Happy Christmas, too, and tell him I already miss him!" She stood and was gone before Harry could reply.

Harry stood; the room, almost empty before he and Lavender began talking, had filled with students making ready for the train ride home. Harry scanned the crowd, looking for Ron, Hermione, Ginny, or anyone else he knew. Even Luna would — at that moment Harry caught sight of her, talking to Neville. Over the noise of dozens of people talking at once, he had no chance of hearing what they were saying, but they both looked eager to talk with one another.

At that moment Professor McGonagall and Mr. Filch emerged from the Great Hall, moving toward the doors that led out of the castle and toward Hogsmeade. "May I have your attention, everyone," she said, loudly, and the conversations quickly faded away. "We will be transporting students to Hogsmeade Station alphabetically. Will students and prefects whose last names begin with A to G please line up and give your name to Mr. Filch, then wait outside for the carriages."

This was a new wrinkle, Harry thought, watching as students began forming a line in front of the hunched, cantankerous caretaker. The room was noisy again as conversations picked up where they'd left off. Running his eyes up and down that line, Harry finally caught sight of Hermione giving her name to Filch. "Hermione!" he called. "Save me a seat!" But if Hermione heard she gave no indication; Hermione nodded at Filch and walked outside. Harry almost reached for his wand, wanting to send her a message, perhaps with his Patronus. But he wasn't really sure how the Patronus messenger spell differed from the Patronus Charm — he would look foolish if he conjured a Patronus and it just stood around doing nothing. Harry took his hand off his wand.

When all the students who'd first lined up were outside, McGonagall spoke again. "Students whose last names begin with H to P please line up in front of Mr. Filch." Harry shrugged into his coat and threw the rucksack over his shoulder again, then got into line behind Ernie Macmillian, who turned around with an air of self-importance surrounding himself.

"All right there, Harry?" he asked, then added, "How'd your date with Luna go last night?"

"Just swell," Harry muttered, almost rudely. "How'd _yours_ go?"

Ernie looked surprised and a trifle discomfited. "Actually, I didn't have a date last ni—" he caught himself, chuckling. "Ha! Pretty sneaky there, Harry!"

He started to say something else, but they had reached Filch. Ernie gave his name, then walked out through the double doors.

"Name?" Filch grunted, as Harry stepped in front of him.

"Harry Potter," Harry said, thinking _As if you didn't recognize me_.

"Go on, then," Filch growled, jerking a thumb at the door, and Harry slipped past him and down the steps outside the castle, where only a few carriages were left. Harry looked around, trying to find an empty one.

"Over here, Harry!" he heard someone call. It was Neville and Luna, sitting alone in a carriage. Neville was waving at him; apparently no one else wanted to ride with them. Harry jogged over to their carriage and tossed his rucksack in.

"Hope you don't mind riding with us _cool_ students," Neville asked, a grin on his round face.

"Thanks," Harry said, truly grateful for that moment to ride with someone he actually knew and liked.

"Hello Harry," Luna said, as he hoisted himself into the carriage. "I was wrong, wasn't I?"

The question caught Harry off-guard. "What do you mean?" he asked, blankly.

"It's not next year yet," she explained, then turned to Neville. "When Harry took me back to Ravenclaw Tower, I told him I'd see him next year. But it's not next year yet, and here we are." Neville laughed and nodded, understanding.

"I guess you're right," Harry smiled, glad that was all she was referring to. It wasn't always easy to follow what Luna was talking about.

"I was telling Neville about the Christmas party," Luna went on, as the carriage began moving, the last one of the second wave of students bound for the Hogwarts Express. "He was quite interested in hearing about Mr. Sanguini."

"Harry told me all about him earlier," Neville hastened to add. "When we were getting ready for the train."

Harry had only volunteered one thing to Neville about Sanguini, as he recalled, that he seemed to be full of blood wine. But he wasn't going to disagree with Neville, if that's what his fellow Gryffindor wanted to tell Luna. He listened in silence as Luna described finding Harry beneath his Invisibility Cloak, how they had run into the courtyard balcony to escape Snape, and how Sanguini had kept the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from discovering their presence. It wasn't something Harry would have volunteered on his own, but it was Luna's story as much as his; he wasn't going to disagree with her, either.

At Hogsmeade Station, the three of them jumped down from the carriage. Harry watched as the thestral turned slowly around, heading back to the castle. Most people couldn't see thestrals — Harry had first seen them on the trip from Hogsmeade Station at the beginning of his fifth year. This was after he'd witnessed the death of Cedric Diggory at the hands of Wormtail — Peter Pettigrew — who had hidden in plain sight for a dozen years, first as Percy Weasley's pet rat, then with his younger brother Ron, until he was exposed as an Animagus by one of his teachers, Remus Lupin and Harry's godfather, Sirius Black. Thinking about Sirius brought a pang of loss to his chest, and Harry turned away from the departing thestral, shaking the image of Sirius falling through the Veil from his head.

Luna, Neville and Harry walked onto the platform at Hogsmeade Station, until Neville stopped, taking hold of Harry's arm. "I — I want to talk to Luna for a few minutes, b-before we go," he said, looking at Harry apprehensively. "Unless you don't want me to…" he faltered. "…Do you mind?"

Neville had evidently taken the "date" between Harry more seriously than Harry himself had. "No, I don't mind, Neville," he said, shaking his head. "I'll find us a compartment."

"Okay, but —" Neville still looked uneasy. "Uh, Luna said that she's been invited to sit with some of the other Ravenclaw students."

"Really? Good for her!" Harry was impressed by this. Luna was apparently making more friends at the school now. "That's brilliant, Neville."

"Well," Neville leaned in close, speaking conspiratorially. "I think they want to hear how things went with you and her."

_That_ amused Harry, the first time he'd felt happy today. "Well, they're going to be disappointed in that story, because there's nothing much to tell, unless they want to hear about Luna and me meeting a vampire." Harry just hoped she wouldn't spread around what they'd been doing before that: spying on Snape and Malfoy.

As if he'd read Harry's mind, Neville said, "I told her she probably shouldn't mention that you were both under your Invisibility Cloak before you met Sanguini. That's not something that needs to get back to Snape."

_Or at all_, Harry thought; other students, especially Slytherins, would make something unsavory out of it. "Agreed." Harry sighed, relieved and grateful for Neville giving Luna a head's up. "I'll save you a seat, then." Neville nodded and went over to Luna, while Harry, after scanning the platform for Hermione and not finding her, boarded the train.

He though he would find her in a compartment, waiting for them, but she was nowhere to be found on the train. He finally found Ginny sitting in a compartment with a few of her friends. "D'you know where Hermione's at, Ginny?"

"Up in the prefects' car," Ginny told him. "She told me they're having a meeting on the way home, to prepare for next term."

Harry nodded, unhappy, but there was little he could do about it. It would be interesting, however, to see where Ron would go when he finally got the station — would he sit with Harry, in the regular compartments, or with Hermione and the other prefects, where he belonged?

He made his way back, but most of the compartments were already full. Romilda Vane smiled and beckoned for him to join her and her friends in their compartment, but Harry wisely begged off, saying he already had a seat saved for him.

There was a small lurch as the train began to move. Harry glanced at his watch; it was 11 a.m. exactly, the train had left on schedule, as usual. He continued peering into compartments, but they all seemed to be full; curious, that, Harry mused, given that the train could hold the entire Hogwarts student body and that not everyone was going home over the Christmas break.

He was nearly to the back of the train when a couple of third years pushed past him, heading for the last compartment. "Oi!" Harry said loudly, but the students just grinned at him before trying the last compartment door. It wouldn't open for them, however, and they turned and stalked away, giving Harry sullen looks as they passed.

Curious who was in the last compartment, Harry walked slowly toward it, expecting to see Neville or maybe even Ron inside; that would be the most reasonable explanation why the third-years were turned away. But when he reached the closed door, he was surprised to read a piece of parchment that was stuck to the window:

**Reserved Especially for**  
><strong>Harry Potter<strong>

_What was this about_? Harry wondered. Who would put up a sign reserving a compartment for _him_? He put his face up to the compartment glass, but it was dark inside and Harry could make out no one and nothing within the compartment. He reached for the compartment door's handle, attempting to slide the door open. It was locked. Was he supposed to use _Alohomra_ or something like that on it, Harry wondered.

The door suddenly slid open, yanking itself free of Harry's grasp. A long-fingered hand reached from the darkness and grasped him by the wrist. Before Harry could react, he was pulled inside. His momentum carried him onto one of the compartment's seats; the hand that had pulled him inside was still gripping his wrist. His free hand went instinctively to his wand, but a deep, measured voice made him freeze.

"Welcome, Harry Potter. I have been waiting to talk to you."

Harry kept his hand on his wand, though he didn't draw it. "Who — who are you?" he asked, half-expecting a trap of some sort.

The darkness in the compartment seemed to dissipate. Sitting across from Harry was a tall, gaunt man, staring at Harry with the blackest, most unfathomable eyes he had ever seen. The stranger was dressed in a well-tailored but very out-dated suit, with a flowing black cloak draped about him. "Good morning, Mr. Potter," the man spoke quietly, in spite of the deepness of his voice. "I am very pleased to meet you at last." He sat back, releasing Harry's arm.

"Who are you?" Harry asked again bluntly, suspicious of the way this stranger chose to introduce himself. His accent was similar to the way Viktor Krum spoke, Harry noticed.

"We have a mutual acquaintance, Mr. Potter," the stranger continued. "Mr. Sanguini."

"So?" Harry's retort was rude, but he was in no mood for banter. This had the feel of a trap, and his eyes flickered left and right, trying to figure out a way to escape. "What do you want, then?"

"For now, merely to talk," the tall figure assured him. "Sanguini has told me that you and he had a — shall we say — an interesting conversation the other night."

Harry shrugged. "We talked," he admitted. "But I don't know what that's got to do with —"

"Well, I should speak plainly, then," the man interrupted. "I am here to discuss a matter of some importance to both of us, and to make you an offer that it would be in your best interests to accept."

Harry edged fractionally closer to the compartment door, trying to make it appear he was merely getting comfortable. "Why come to me like this?" he asked. "Sneaking onto the Hogwarts Express to talk to me? And what's your acquaintance with Sanguini?"

"Sanguini is my servant," the tall stranger replied.

Harry shook his head. "I thought he was Eldred Worple's friend," he argued.

A thin smile came to the man's lips. "Worple thinks that, too. He labors under the impression that Sanguini is a true vampire — in fact, the whole Wizarding community harbors that impression as well. But they are wrong."

The man leaned forward slightly, looking directly into Harry's eyes. "_I _am a true vampire, Harry Potter."

Author's Note: And off we go into the wonderful world of vampires, Harry Potter style. Please review, if you're so inclined, and let me know what you think.


	2. Von Necros' Express

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Two  
>"<strong>Von Necros' Express"<strong>

Updated September 30, 2011

"Sanguini told me he was a half-vampire," Harry said, skeptically. "But he appeared half-drunk on blood wine — I wasn't inclined to take anything he said seriously."

The stranger made a dismissive gesture. "It was unfortunate that Sanguini availed himself of too much blood wine, it tends to loosen his tongue more than is prudent."

"So you're saying that what he told me is true?" Harry pressed. "He's not a full vampire, and you are?"

The stranger nodded. "The distinction," he said, "is that half-vampires are still alive, though the Wizarding world thinks of them as _undead_." The stranger gestured toward himself. "I, on the other hand, have actually _died_, over 600 years ago." Harry just stared at him, incredulous.

"Pardon my rudeness," the stranger continued. "I should have introduced myself when we first met. I am Baron von Necros, from Transylvania."

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Harry asked, buying himself time as he tried to decide whether he could pull open the compartment door and escape before von Necros stopped him. The man's grip had been quite strong.

But von Necros must have read his intentions, somehow. "I locked the compartment door when I pulled you inside," he said, then spread his long, thin hands in a gesture of openness. "But I promise you, Harry, that I mean you no harm."

Harry sat back, wondering how long before someone came looking for him — Ron, Hermione, even Ginny, Luna or Neville. "You can say you mean me no harm," he pointed out. "But you're still keeping me here. And I have yet to see any indication that you are any more of a vampire than Sanguini," he added, to challenge him.

"That is a fair point," von Necros conceded. "I would like to show you something." One hand disappeared beneath his cloak; Harry tensed, watching him anxiously. Von Necros slowly brought out his hand; held gracefully in his fingers was a long, thin wand. "This was the wand I received from Ollivanders — oh, I attended Hogwarts, by the way — in the year 1461," he said, holding it up for Harry's inspection. "It is holly, 12 inches long, with a dragon heartstring core." Von Necros pointed it toward the compartment door and said, "_Avis_!" Nothing happened. Harry recognized it as a spell to conjure a flock of small, twittering birds, like the spell Hermione had used after their first Quidditch match, against Slytherin. Von Necros handed the wand to Harry. "I invite you to see if it works."

Harry hesitated, but took the wand from von Necros. It felt similar to his own holly wand, but was longer and a bit stiffer. He tried to remember one of the other spells Mr. Ollivander used to test their wands, back when he, Cedric Diggory, Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were the four wizards of the Triwizard Tournament. He finally recalled one, held the wand out in front of himself, and said, "_Orchideous_!"

A bunch of flowers burst from the wand. Harry started to grab for them, but von Necros' hand moved so fast Harry didn't realize he'd caught them until his own hand closed on empty air.

"Interesting to see that it still works," von Necros murmured, examining the flowers momentarily before dropping them on the seat beside him.

"You were a wizard," Harry deduced. Von Necros nodded. "If vampires can be wizards, why doesn't the Ministry allow them to carry wands?"

"Because we _cannot_ be wizards," von Necros explained. "When we are Made, we lose our wizarding powers: spellcasting, Animagus ability, even a Metamorphmagus can no longer change his appearance.

"There _are_ benefits to being a vampire, however," von Necros continued. "Vampires are stronger and faster than humans, and sturdier and more resistant to damage, even magical damage." Von Necros pointed to his wand, still in Harry's hand. "Cast a Stunning spell at me," he invited.

Harry frowned. Getting hit with a Stunner was _not_ pleasant — he knew from experience. Nonetheless, he raised the wand, pointing it at the vampire's chest at point blank range. "Are you _sure_?" he asked von Necros. "This will really hurt."

"You may fire when ready, Gridley," von Necros smiled.

Harry nodded, though he didn't know why von Necros had called him "Gridley." "_Stupefy_!" he cried, and there was a loud _crack_ as the wand shot a red bolt of energy that impacted on the vampire's chest. The compartment actually seemed to shake a bit as the bolt pushed the thin, pale man against the back of his seat.

But rather than falling over unconscious, as Harry would have expected, von Necros merely smiled. "Didn't that hurt?" Harry asked, a bit awed by von Necros' seeming immunity to the spell.

"It stung a little," von Necros admitted. "But I sustained no damage. Would you care to try a Killing Curse on me?"

Harry flinched. "N-no," he said, offering the vampire his wand back. "I don't use Unforgiveable Curses."

Von Necros took the wand back, secreting it once again under his cloak. He gave Harry a reproachful look. "Harry, it is useless to lie to me. I know your thoughts — you _have_ used the Cruciatus Curse on the witch Bellatrix Lestrange, who killed your godfather, Sirius Black, earlier this year at the Ministry of Magic."

"You can do Legilimency?" Harry was startled and embarrassed to have his deepest thoughts read so easily. "I thought you said you lost any wizarding powers you had when you became a vampire!"

"It is an ability some vampires possess," von Necros told him. "It is _not_ Legilimency; as I told you, vampires lose all wizarding powers when we are Made. It is deeper than Legilimency, however, so I can know your thoughts, even those you believe shielded by Occlumency or magical wards such as the Fidelius Charm."

"I still haven't seen convincing proof that you're a vampire," Harry objected. "You might have a Shield Charm enchanting your clothing, and it's possible you learned about my duel with Lestrange, perhaps even from her," he added, making it clear that he still distrusted von Necros.

"All plausible explanations," von Necros conceded. "However, I must have your trust — it is important that you believe what I tell you about myself is true, if we are to work together for our mutual benefit."

"You want us to work together?" Harry asked. He pointed to the compartment door. "Unlock the door and allow me to leave, if I choose not to work with you."

Von Necros was silent for a moment; then, "Agreed," he said, and Harry heard the _click_ of the compartment door unlocking. He stood and stepped over to the door, pushing it open a fraction. He turned back to von Necros.

"What is it you want us to work together on?" he asked.

"The death of Lord Voldemort," von Necros replied, his dark eyes boring into Harry.

Harry stood stock still for several seconds, taking in that statement. He pushed the compartment door closed and sat down again, facing von Necros. "What do you know of Voldemort?" he asked in a quiet, curious voice.

"He is your most implacable enemy," von Necros answered. "And a danger to everyone in Britain, including us vampires."

"What interest would vampires have in Voldemort?" Harry wanted to know.

The vampire sat back, steepling his fingers. "Much," he said, in a grave tone. "He has courted us — or rather, those he and the Wizarding world believes to be vampires, for several months now."

Harry nodded understanding. "Just like he did the giants, last year. And the dementors, and werewolves." He looked apprehensively at von Necros. "All of them have joined Voldemort. What — what do the vampires plan to do? Will you join Voldemort against the Wizarding community as well?"

"Our servants are in discussion with Voldemort's top Death Eaters now," von Necros replied. "But it is apparent that his ultimate goal is not to include vampires in a post-Voldemort rulership of the Wizarding community. While he preaches justice, or more precisely revenge, against the wizards who have repressed and domesticated vampires, his intentions seem to be the elimination of Muggle-born wizards, and enslavement of humans in the British Isles.

"As there are several vampires living in Britain at this time, a Voldemort takeover would prove to be detrimental to their well-being. The Grand Coven has ordered that we try to discover what Voldemort's goals are and how he intends to achieve them," von Necros explained.

"I've been studying Voldemort this year with my headmaster, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, leaning forward to gaze intently at the vampire.

"And what have you learned thus far?" von Necros asked, interested.

"That he was born to a Muggle father and a witch, and that Professor Dumbledore brought him to Hogwarts when he was eleven, to begin his education," Harry said, recounting the Pensieve memories he had viewed with the headmaster. Von Necros looked contemplative as he listened to Harry's descriptions.

"Is that all you've learned?" he asked, when Harry finished.

"No, there are more memories for me to look at," Harry replied. "At least, I think there are…"

"There are," von Necros said. He sounded definite. "Voldemort has many secrets of his own."

"Such as?" Harry prompted, hoping to hear some of them.

But von Necros shook his head. "In due time, Harry, but not now. After you've heard about Horcruxes, perhaps. What I want to accomplish with this meeting is to gauge how serious you are about stopping Voldemort, and whether you are willing to work with us to do so."

Harry was disappointed at not getting any information on Voldemort, beyond a word he had never heard before — Horcruxes. However, that was secondary at the moment — he would continue his lessons with Dumbledore as they explored the memories the headmaster had collected.

As for von Necros… "I am serious about defeating Voldemort," he said, forcefully. "He killed my parents. But even more than that, he is a threat to everyone in Britain. He must be stopped before he brings about the downfall of the Wizarding world."

"Does it bother you, Harry," von Necros asked, staring deeply into Harry's eyes. "That you will also be saving vampires, werewolves and other creatures the Wizarding world wishes to keep marginalized and weak?"

"I — don't know," Harry said, honestly. "I…suppose…it depends on what their intentions are. Do vampires plan on continuing to prey on people after Voldemort is eliminated?"

"We do not 'prey' on people now, Harry," von Necros looked adamant about that statement. "I myself have not drunk unwilling human blood in years. Our intention is to remain hidden, even from the Wizarding world, after Voldemort is eliminated."

Von Necros leaned forward, watching Harry intently. "I now have a question for _you_, Harry Potter. It has been said that you are the 'Chosen One,' the one and only person capable of stopping Voldemort. Do you believe this is true?"

"The _Daily Prophet_ thinks so," Harry hedged.

"No, I asked what _you_ believe," the vampire said, shaking his head.

Harry was frankly tired of the whole 'Chosen One' thing. "I don't think so," he said flatly, waving his hand in dismissal. "But," he added, "that doesn't change the fact that I want Voldemort gone. He's hurt, _killed_ people — people I knew, people I considered friends. Both he and —" Harry's voice caught for a moment. "— and those who follow him."

Von Necros nodded; Harry thought he caught a glimmer of sadness in the vampire's eyes. "Your godfather, Sirius, for example," he said quietly, in his deep voice.

Harry nodded, almost reluctantly. He had dealt with the loss of Sirius over the summer and had no desire to dredge it up once again. "We need not dwell on it," von Necros said quickly. "But I do want to know, Harry — are you willing to do whatever it takes to defeat him?"

After a moment, Harry nodded. "Nothing is as important as getting rid of Voldemort," he said, firmly. "I will do whatever it takes." He had already spent the past several months with Dumbledore, learning about Voldemort — Tom Riddle, as he'd once been known. Harry believed that Dumbledore was preparing him to fight Riddle, by giving him information that would eventually show them how to defeat the Dark Lord.

"Good," von Necros said, a tiny smile curving a corner of his mouth. "I will leave you now, Harry Potter, but I will be in touch with you in the future." He stood, his tall, pale form towering over Harry.

Harry looked at the compartment door, surprised. "You're not going to just walk out of here, are you?" He had no idea what other students would think if they saw someone like von Necros striding down the corridors of the train. "Won't you be affected by sunlight if you leave now?"

"That is true," von Necros admitted, staring into Harry's eyes. Those black eyes, so deep and penetrating, made Harry feel as if he were looking into infinity. "_Listen to me, Harry_," the vampire's voice said, commandingly. "_You will remember nothing of this conversation until we speak again. Do you understand?"_

"Yes," Harry felt a pressure inside his head, a pressure demanding that he agree to what the vampire was saying. Haltingly, he murmured, "I — I understand."

"_You will go to sleep now_," the mesmerizing voice continued. "_You will awaken at the end of this journey, refreshed and eager to enjoy your holiday_."

Harry nodded once again, then slowly rolled over on his side, pulling his legs up onto the bench. In a moment he was snoring peacefully, his conversation with the vampire forgotten.

=ooo=

"Harry! _Oi_! Harry!"

Harry awoke, finding himself lying on the compartment seat. He was a bit stiff but otherwise felt fine, rested and refreshed. "Oh, hi Ron," he said, looking at his best friend, who was leaning through the partially-open compartment door. "Are we there yet?"

"Yeah, we are!" Ron snapped, annoyed. "You an' I are the last ones on the train, Harry — everyone else is gone."

Harry sat up, looking at Ron. There was a half-remembered dream floating around the back of his mind, but it was so fuzzy he could make out none of its details. That hardly mattered, however — he felt wonderful right now, quite invigorated by his nap. There was a stiffness in his neck, probably from sleeping on the compartment bench. Harry rolled his neck, working the kinks out of it.

"What's up with the flowers?" Ron asked, pointing to the bouquet on the bench opposite Harry. Harry looked at it blankly, trying to remember.

"I dunno," he said. "I must've conjured them in my sleep, I guess." He looked around the compartment, in the overhead racks and at his feet. "Where's my stuff?" he asked, trying to recall where he'd put his things.

"Out here in the hallway," Ron said, pushing open the compartment door. Harry's rucksack and coat were there, beside the door. "What'd you do," he asked in a puzzled tone of voice. "Needed a kip so bad you just dropped them and went to sleep on the compartment bench, then?"

"I dunno," Harry said again. He barely remembered entering the compartment; the last thing he recalled was shouting at some third-years who tried to get in it ahead of him. But they'd run away, unable to get the door open, and Harry had tried it as well… but he didn't remember lying down.

"I looked for you after we were underway," Ron said, sullenly. "Romilda Vame said she offered you a seat with her and her friends, but you said no."

Harry stood up and stepped into the hallway with Ron, picking up his coat and rucksack. "Yeah," he said. "I wasn't —" he stopped, not wanting to say he wasn't sure Ron wanted to sit with him, or him with Ron, given their argument earlier that morning.

"Well, never mind," Ron said, his tone becoming more conciliatory. "We're here now — let's go find Mum and Dad. They owled me before we left the school and said they'd be here to pick us up."

Harry followed Ron off the train and onto Platform 9¾. It was nearly empty, most of the students had crossed through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, back to King's Cross Station. There, Harry saw many of the students meeting their parents or friends. He caught a glimpse of a brown-haired girl walking away between a man and a woman; he recognized her as Hermione Granger.

"I guess Hermione's going to stay with her parents this break?" he muttered, mostly to himself.

But Ron had heard. "Yeah," he said, sounding almost wistful. "But we'll have a great time at the Burrow without her, Harry, just you watch. Fleur's still there, you know."

Harry said nothing, knowing that Ron's interest in Fleur Delacour was due more to her being half-veela than any real interest on his part. She was Bill Weasley's _fiancée_, after all!

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waiting for them near the edge of Platform 9. Mrs. Weasley waved excitedly at their approach, then grabbed Ron and hugged him tightly, kissing him on the cheek as Mr. Weasley shook Harry's hand in greeting. "Oh it's so good to see the two of you again!" she exclaimed, letting go of Ron and embracing Harry, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was so enthusiastic that it hurt his neck a bit. Harry endured it silently, however, knowing Mrs. Weasley's boundless affection for him.

When she released him, Harry looked around quickly. "Where's Ginny?" he asked, expecting to see her there as well.

"She went out to the car," Mr. Weasley explained. "I managed to borrow one from the Ministry, though Minister Scrimgeour wasn't too pleased by my request." Mr. Weasley looked apologetically at his wife. "Molly, dear, I'm afraid I'll have to return the vehicle to the Ministry as soon as we drop everyone off at home."

"Tsk!" Mrs. Weasley said, looking disgusted. "That man is so — so — well, I shouldn't say such things in front of the boys," she finally finished, grimly.

The day was overcast, but Harry nevertheless shielded his eyes as they stepped out of King's Cross station. It had been dark in the compartment and on the platform; he was surprised how bright it seemed outside. The Weasleys led the way out to the car park, where Harry and Ron found a large, black automobile, a British Rover saloon car that was similar to other Ministry cars the Ministry used. Ginny was sitting in the back seat, a blank expression on her face as they approached.

"Let's get your things put away," Mr. Weasley said, walking back to the boot. He opened it. As expected, the boot was much larger inside than was possible for a Muggle vehicle — it was enchanted by the Ministry to allow a lot of baggage to be transported. Harry and Ron threw their rucksacks inside, then climbed into the back seat with Ginny.

"Hullo," she said to Harry as he got in. The back seat, like the boot, was enchanted so that more people than normal could sit comfortably side by side. Harry nodded at her, not sure whether to smile or not. She looked at Ron but didn't say anything. After a moment Ron leaned back, looking over her head, and gave Harry a _what's-with-her?_ expression. Harry shrugged fractionally. He was glad to see, though, that he and Ron were getting on better.

Mr. Weasley pulled the car to the exit of the car park, then paid the toll (after getting some surreptitious help from Harry with the Muggle money. "I never can keep 'pounds' and 'sense' straight in my head," he said ruefully, as Harry counted out the toll charge to him. They pulled out of the car park, then got on the A40, settling in for the long drive to Devon and Ottery St. Catchpole, the town the Burrow was closest to.

"It would certainly be nice if this car could fly," Mr. Weasley said, sounding wistful. "We could be home in short order if —"

"Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said warningly. "You're _not_ getting another car to enchant! It's no use even thinking about it — you remember how much trouble that other car of yours caused us!"

Harry remembered that "other car" — a Ford Anglia that Mr. Weasley had taken apart, piece by piece, and enchanted so that it could fly. He'd also installed an Invisibility Booster, so no one could see the car as it rose into the air, to fly above the clouds.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "It would have gotten us home in ten minutes," he muttered, looking in the back seat. Harry saw Mr. Weasley wink at Ron, who grinned back at him. Even Ginny was smiling now, Harry noticed. He grinned too, even though ten minutes from the Burrow to King's Cross station was a stretch. The one time they had driven the car, at the beginning of their second year, it had taken as long to reach Hogwarts as the Hogwarts Express did; Harry wondered if it could have gone any faster.

"_Enough_, Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, and Mr. Weasley turned back to the road. She turned to look in the back seat, smiling as if she'd just commented favorably on his driving skills. "Now, who'd like to sing a song, to pass the time?" she asked. "What about 'Ninety-Nine Butterbeer Bottles?'" she suggested, and without waiting for agreement launched into the song.

_Ninety-nine butterbeers hung on the wall,  
><em>_Ninety-nine warm butterbeers,  
><em>_You take one down  
><em>_And pass it around,  
><em>_Ninety-eight butterbeers hung on the wall!_

Ginny began singing as well, and before long Harry, Ron and even Mr. Weasley had chimed in as well. On the thirteenth repeat of the song, just as dusk was settling around them, they finally pulled into the Burrow's front yard, stopping in front of the garage where Mr. Weasley had kept the Anglia. Mr. Weasley helped Harry, Ron and Ginny get their bags out of the boot, then kissed his wife and got back into the black Rover, pulling out into the country road that ran next to the Burrow. Ron and Harry watched as the car drove away, while Ginny and Mrs. Weasley headed into the house.

"It _would_ have been fun if it could fly," Ron muttered, as Mr. Weasley drove out of sight around the curve of the road. Harry nodded agreement; he'd sometimes wished he could drive, like Mr. Weasley did and like Ron had done with the Anglia, those years ago. Still, he reflected, it was good enough for now that he could ride a broom, and that he had the best one on the market — the Firebolt.

Too bad he hadn't thought to bring it along, Harry suddenly realized. They might have had a chance to practice some Quidditch with Fred and George when they were here, for Christmas dinner. If Fleur and Ginny played, they could have a three-on-three game. And Ron and Ginny would get in some added flight time, something Ron could use more of.

"Come on in, boys," Mrs. Weasley called from the front door. "It's getting late, and I've made some soup to tide you over until tomorrow morning." Harry and Ron tramped into the house and back to the kitchen, where they, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley enjoyed bowls of soup and great slices of homemade bread and butter. Ginny was smiling and talkative now, telling her mother about her classes during the fall term and being Chaser on the Gryffindor team with Harry and Ron. She even recounted Ron's first outing as Keeper, where he could seem to do no wrong as he blocked score after score attempt by the Slytherin team. She did fail to mention the party afterward, however, when Ron and Lavender Brown began snogging.

After the late meal, the three of them tramped up the staircase to bed. Ginny stopped next to her room on the first floor, and Harry stopped with her. Ron was part way up the stairs to the second floor when he realized Harry was no longer behind him. He stopped, looking back down at them. "Coming, Harry?" he asked.

"In a minute," Harry nodded. "I'll just say goodnight to Ginny."

Ron shrugged and resumed climbing the stairs. Harry stared after him until Ron was out of sight, then looked at Ginny. "Thanks for not mentioning that, uh, thing with Ron and Lavender," he told her. "I'm not sure what your mum would think of that."

"Probably that he's a filthy hypocrite, like I do," snorted Ginny. "He was _so_ scandalized when Dean and I began dating, and Michael Corner before him, but he sees nothing wrong with snogging Lavender up and down the corridors of Hogwarts."

"Uh, yeah," Harry said, uncomfortable with the thought of Ginny and Dean snogging.

Ginny must have sensed something. "You don't have a problem with it, do you, Harry?" she looked at him inquiringly.

"No, no," Harry demurred, though his words sounded hollow.

"Did you kiss Luna on your date?" she asked him bluntly.

Harry's eyes widened. "No," he shook his head. "She kissed _me_." Harry pointed to his cheek. "Right here."

Ginny smiled. "Luna's a nice girl," she told him. "I know she's not everyone's cup of tea, but —"

"She invited me over to visit during the break," Harry suddenly said, as though the words couldn't be held inside him a moment longer. Ginny raised an eyebrow but continued smiling.

"That's nice of her," she said. "She's told me a lot about her father and his work on the _Quibbler_. He did a great job printing your interview with Rita Skeeter last year."

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Well, I better get to bed," he jerked his head toward the stairs. "Ron'll wonder where I am."

"Goodnight, Harry," Ginny said, and slipped into her room. Harry turned and trudged up the steps to Ron's room, located near the top of the house. Ron must've been tired, Harry noticed; he was already in bed and snoring. Harry sat on his camp bed, reaching into his rucksack and pulling out his pajama bottoms and an old, faded Weird Sister T-shirt he'd gotten a few Christmases ago. He quickly changed into them and laid down.

Sleep did not come easily to Harry that night. He'd slept too much on the Hogwarts Express, he decided. Something about the train ride still bothered him, however — something didn't feel right. How had he managed to sleep so long on that ride, he wondered. He tossed and turned on the camp bed, wincing when he felt a sharp pain in his neck. Had he stretched a muscle while sleeping in the compartment, he wondered. If only he could remember what he seemed to have forgotten. It was aggravating whenever he did that. Well, it would eventually come to him again, Harry decided. He did not know how long it took him to fall asleep.

=ooo=

"Baubles," said Ron confidently. It was several days after the New Year, and he, Harry and Ginny had just traveled by Floo from the Burrow to Hogwarts, a one-off connection to get students back to school safely and quickly.

The Fat Lady, who looked paler than usual, winced at his voice, then frowned at him. "No," she said, weakly.

Ron looked surprised. "What d'you mean, 'no'?" he asked.

"There's a new password," the Fat Lady informed him. "And please don't shout."

Ron looked at Harry and Ginny, who both shrugged. "But we've been away," he told the portrait. "How're we supposed to know —"

"Harry! Ginny!" a voice behind them called. It was Hermione, very pink-faced and looking as though she had just come in from outdoors. "I got back a couple of hours ago," she informed them. "I've just been down to visit Hagrid and — er, Witherwings," she said, breathlessly. "Did you have a good Christmas?"

Ron spoke first. "Yeah, it was pretty eventful, Rufus Scrimgeour showed up with —"

"I've got something for you," Hermione said to Harry, giving no indication she'd seen Ron nor heard what he'd said. "Oh, hang on — password," She turned to the Fat Lady. "Abstinence," she said.

The Fat Lady nodded feebly. "Precisely," she said, in a small voice. She swung forward, revealing the portrait hole.

"What's up with her," Harry asked Hermione, indicating the Fat Lady's portrait as they clambered through the hole.

The common room was packed. Evidently Harry, Ron and Ginny had been one of the last groups of Gryffindors to come through McGonagall's fireplace.

"Overindulgence, apparently," Hermione answered, with a roll of her eyes, leading the way into the packed room. "She and her friend Violet drank their way through all the wine in that picture of drunk monks, down by the Charms corridor. Anyway, let's see…" She felt around in a pocket for a moment, then handed Harry a small parchment scroll. Harry unrolled it, seeing Dumbledore's writing on it.

"Great," Harry grinned, reading that his next lesson with Dumbledore was scheduled for the following evening. "I've got loads to tell him," he said, sighing tiredly. The past few days had been so busy he'd been exhausted each evening by bedtime, but he'd hardly got any sleep any of the nights he was at the Burrow. "And to tell you," he added, looking at Hermione. "Let's sit down," he said, looking for a table.

At that moment there was a loud squeal of "Won-Won!" and Lavender hurtled out of nowhere, flinging herself into Ron's arms. Ginny snorted to herself, and several onlookers sniggered as Ron and Lavender spun around, kissing one another. Hermione laughed momentarily, then pointed toward a corner. "Well, there's a table over there. Coming with, Ginny?" she asked the youngest Weasley.

"No, thanks," Ginny replied. "I said I'd meet Dean." Harry noticed that she did not sound especially pleased. She waved, moving off to find Dean, and Harry and Hermione walked toward the table, leaving Ron and Lavender looking as though they were locked in a vertical wrestling match.

"How was your Christmas?" Harry asked, after they'd sat down. It felt good to sit, Harry thought; after rushing about this morning getting ready to return to Hogwarts, he felt done in already.

"Oh fine," Hermione shrugged. "It was nothing special." Her voice took on a sardonic tone. "How was it at Won-Won's?"

"I'll get to that in a minute," Harry replied, evasively. He started to ask if she could cut Ron some slack, but she stopped him with a fierce look that brooked no further argument.

"You had something else to tell me?" Hermione then asked, and Harry recounted what he had overheard during Malfoy and Snape's conversation, the night of Slughorn's party. After he'd finished, he noticed Hermione's expression. She looked quite skeptical. She was evidently going to pick holes in his story. "Don't you think—"

"— that Snape was pretending to offer help, to trick Malfoy into telling what he's up to?" Harry finished for her.

"Well, yes."

Harry's face twisted grudgingly. "Ron's dad and Lupin think so, too," he told her. "But you can't deny this proves Malfoy's plotting something, doesn't it?"

"I suppose not," she agreed, slowly.

"And that he's acting on Voldemort's orders, just like I said?" Harry continued, pressing his theory.

Hermione cocked her head. "Did either of them actually _say_ Voldemort's name?" she asked, pointedly.

Harry sighed tiredly. He frowned, trying to remember. "I dunno, not sure… But Snape did say 'your master' — who else would that be?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, either." She bit her lip, thinking intently. "Could he have meant Malfoy's father?"

Neither of them said anything. Hermione stared across the room, lost in thought. She didn't even seem to notice Lavender tickling Ron. Finally she asked, "How's Lupin doing?"

"Not very good," Harry told her. He told her what Lupin had told him, about his mission among the werewolves, trying to build support for the Order against Voldemort. "He mentioned a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback — ever heard of him?"

Hermione stared at him in surprise. "Yes, I have!" she said. "And so have you, Harry — remember?"

Harry was too tired to think clearly. "What, History of Magic?" he asked. "You know I never paid attention —"

"No, not then," Hermione interrupted. "We heard Malfoy threaten Borgin with him!" They had been in Fred and George's joke shop when she, Ron and Harry saw Malfoy skulking into Knockturn Alley. They'd followed him under the Invisibility Cloak, to Borgin and Burke's, where they'd listened to Malfoy question Borgin about something neither of them identified.

"Oh yeah!" Harry remembered now. "I forgot about that! Well, that proves Malfoy's a Death Eater, how else would he be in contact with Greyback and telling him what to do?"

"It's pretty suspicious," Hermione admitted, nearly whispering. "Unless…"

"Oh come on!" Harry said, in exasperation. "You can't get round this one!"

"It might have been an empty threat," Hermione pointed out.

Harry shook his head. "You're unbelievable, you know that? Well, we'll see who's right… Mind you, you'll be eating your words, just like the Ministry. Oh, that reminds me," he added. "I had a row with Rufus Scrimgeour, too…"

Harry and Hermione spent the rest of the evening abusing the Minister of Magic. Hermione, like Ron had said after Scrimgeour's visit, thought the Ministry had a great deal of nerve asking him for help after all the rubbish they had put him through the previous year.

Finally Hermione put a hand over her mouth, stifling a tremendous yawn. "Sorry, Harry," she said apologetically. "I really have to get some sleep." She stood. "Are you going up to your room, too?" she asked, looking around at the now-empty common room.

"In a bit," Harry said. He'd been tired all day, but as late as it was now he seemed to have caught a second wind, and was not sleepy at all. It had been this way for the past several days now, ever since he'd gone to the Burrow. "Get some rest," he told her. "I'll see you tomorrow morning at breakfast."

Hermione nodded at him. "Don't stay up too late," she cautioned. "The new term starts tomorrow," she reminded him, then departed up to the girls' dormitories. Harry sat at the table for some time, his mind roiling with unanswered questions about his inability to sleep at night and the tiredness he felt during the daytime. Eventually, though, quite without his conscious knowledge, his eyes closed and Harry dropped off to sleep.

The next morning he awoke in his dormitory bed, feeling tired. Harry sat up, looking at the other beds. All of them were empty, including Ron's. Harry quickly changed into his school robes and dragged himself down to the common room, to find a small crowd milling about the notice board. As Harry approached he saw the notice for Apparition Lessons. It was a twelve-week course and cost 12 Galleons. Harry took out a quill and signed his name at the bottom of the notice. He trudged tiredly down to the Great Hall, where he found Ron, Seamus and Neville talking excitedly about being able to vanish and reappear at will.

Harry sat down next to Ron, not feeling very hungry, and took a piece of toast off a plate, chewing on it listlessly. It tasted like cardboard to him.

Ron noticed this. "You've been off your feed a bit," he muttered to Harry. "Anything wrong, mate?"

"Just — not very hungry the past few days," Harry replied.

Ron grinned at him. "Fleur has that effect on me, too," he said, nudging Harry in the side, then pointed to his plateful of food. "But I got better. Don't worry, you will too."

Harry didn't say anything, though he doubted it was Fleur's presence at the Burrow that had affected his appetite. He spent the rest of the day practically sleepwalking through classes, as Ron talked up Harry's having Apparated, with — well, _someone_, Ron said, though he almost gave away it had been Dumbledore. Harry was still answering questions about it just before eight p.m. that evening, when he was due at Dumbledore's study.

With barely enough time to spare, Harry stood. "I've — er — gotta return a book to the Library," he said, "before Madam Pince has my bum in a sling." Quickly excused, as most students there had undergone Pince's verbal thrashings, Harry was able to make it to make it to the Headmaster's office just in time.

Dumbledore welcomed him into his study, gesturing for him to take a chair opposite him in front of the desk. The headmaster sat at his desk, the Pensieve between them, ready for the lesson. Once again Harry noticed Dumbledore's right hand; it was as blackened and burnt-looking as ever, and Harry wondered, as he had before, what had caused such an unusual injury.

He also wanted to talk about Snape and Malfoy, but before he could, Dumbledore asked about his meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour at the Burrow.

"He's not very happy with me," Harry muttered, unrepentantly.

Dumbledore sighed. "He is not happy with me either. But we must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, and battle on."

Harry broke into a grin. Dumbledore's humor was as subtle as ever. "He wanted me to tell the Wizarding community that the Ministry is doing a wonderful job," he amplified.

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Yes, just as Fudge wanted you to do, when he was about to lose his position," he reminded Harry. "He hoped to retain his position by seeking your support."

"After everything Fudge did to me last year, and to _you_?" Harry snarled angrily. "After _Umbridge_?" The back of his right hand itched, reminding him of the scars that still shone there. Scars that spelled out the words, "I must not tell lies." He had shown them to Scrimgeour at their meeting, shown the Minister of Magic what he thought after learning that Umbridge was still at the Ministry.

"I told Cornelius there was no chance of him meeting you, but the idea did not die when he left office. Shortly after Scrimgeour's appointment we met and he demanded I arrange a meeting with you. I refused, and some unfortunate words passed between us —"

Harry nodded quickly. "That was in the _Daily Prophet_!" he said, his tiredness beginning to evaporate. He was getting his second wind again.

Dumbledore nodded. "The _Prophet_ occasionally reports the truth," he said, wryly. "If only accidentally. Yes, that is why we argued. Apparently Rufus found a way to corner you at last."

Harry nodded grimly. "He knew I was at the Burrow — I'll bet that's why he let Mr. Weasley borrow the Ministry car!"

"Undoubtedly," Dumbledore concurred.

"Scrimgeour accused me of being your man, through and through."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "How very rude of him," he said, mildly.

"I told him I was," Harry replied immediately.

Dumbledore was silent, and Harry had the horrible feeling that Dumbledore was near tears. He hastily stared down at his knees, not wanting to embarrass his headmaster. When Dumbledore next spoke, however, his voice was steady. "I am quite touched, Harry."

"He wanted to know where you go when you're not at Hogwarts," Harry said, not looking up.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, he is very nosy about that." He sounded so normal that Harry looked up at him again. "He set Dawlish to tail me, which I found quite amusing, really. I have already been forced to jinx Dawlish once, last year; I did it again, with the greatest regret.

"Well, enough of that," Dumbledore said, suddenly brisk. "On to the matter at hand — I have two very important Pensieve memories for you to review, Harry —"

"Er — sir," Harry interrupted, as politely as he could manage. "There is something I want to discuss, first."

Dumbledore looked interested. "By all means, Harry, please continue."

"It's about Malfoy and Snape, sir."

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him.

"Yes sir." Harry went on to describe what he'd heard them discussing. Dumbledore listened impassively. He was silent for several seconds after Harry finished.

At last he spoke. "Thank you for telling me this, Harry, but I do not consider it of great importance. I suggest you put it out of your mind."

Harry stared at the headmaster incredulously. "Not important? Did you not understand —?"

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted him in turn, his voice becoming sharp. "I understood everything you told me. I think you should consider the possibility that I understood more than you did, gifted as I am with extraordinary brainpower. Let me reassure you once more that you have not told me anything that causes me disquiet."

Inwardly, Harry was seething. He glared at Dumbledore, wondering if Hermione, Mr. Weasley and Lupin had been right, and Dumbledore already knew what was going on, or if he was worried by what Harry had just told him, but was pretending not to be? "So you still trust Snape?" he asked, in what he hoped was a polite, calm voice.

"My answer, as I was tolerant enough to tell you once already, has not changed," Dumbledore said, sounding anything but tolerant now.

"I should think not," a voice added snidely; Harry saw that Phineas Nigellus had only pretended to be asleep. Dumbledore gave no indication he'd heard the former headmaster's retort.

Harry slumped weakly, mutinous but unwilling to press his position any further. He leaned forward, letting his head rest against the palm of his hand.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Dumbledore sounded concerned.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied sullenly. "I'm just a bit tired." Which wasn't exactly true, now — he'd gotten his second wind while talking about Snape and Malfoy, and he was angry that the professor had refused to consider what he'd told him.

Dumbledore rose to his feet and walked around to where Harry was sitting. "Several of your teachers approached me at dinner, earlier," he said quietly. "They were concerned about your behavior in class. You seemed quite disinterested and listless — weary, even. Is there something you wish to tell me about?"

"I don't know if there's anything to tell," Harry answered. "I've just been — tired — the past few days."

"Should I send you down to Madam Pomfrey?" Dumbledore suggested. "She may be able to determine if there is anything wrong with you."

Harry shook his head. "I don't think that's necessary, sir," he demurred.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I understand," he said. "However," the headmaster continued. "Fortunately, I am the one that makes that decision, not you, and I do deem it necessary." He walked back around his desk, taking a piece of parchment and quill and writing on it. He folded the parchment and handed it to Harry. "Please go to the infirmary and give this note to Poppy. We will continue your lesson another time."

Harry got to his feet, annoyed by Dumbledore's overriding his wishes on the issue of his health. He nodded perfunctorily then turned on his heel and stalked out of the headmaster's study. Once in the corridor outside the entrance to Dumbledore's study, Harry tried to open the parchment, to see what he'd written. But the parchment refused to open for him. Disgruntled, Harry walked slowly to the infirmary, taking his time and mentally abusing the headmaster's insensitivity about his feelings and the cavalier way he dismissed Harry's concerns about Malfoy and Snape.

Reaching the infirmary, Harry strode inside, walking up to Madam Pomfrey's office and knocking on the door. It was several moments before she answered, in her dressing gown. "Yes, Potter, what is it?" she asked, looking both impatient and concerned. Wordlessly he handed her the scrap of parchment from Dumbledore.

Madam Pomfrey stared at it a moment before taking her wand out of her gown and tapping the parchment with it. She read what Dumbledore had scribbled on it, then looked up at Harry, suddenly brisk and businesslike.

"Let's have a look at you, then," she said, leading him to a nearby bed and having him sit down. Passing her wand over him several times, she got a faraway look in her eyes for a moment. Then she seemed to come back to the present, and hurried into her office, returning a minute later with a tray holding several bottles and spoons.

"We'll have you fixed up in a jiffy, dear," she said, measuring out a spoonful of liquid from one bottle. "Take this."

"What am I taking?" Harry asked, keeping his mouth as tightly closed as possible, to keep her from shoving the spoon in his mouth.

"It's a Blood Replenishing potion," Pomfrey said. "You're a trifle anemic."

Harry grudgingly opened his mouth and let her give him the potion. She picked up another bottle, measuring out another spoonful and holding it in front of Harry, who raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"This is a Calming Draught," she said, answering his unspoken question. "It will keep you from feeling nauseous from effects of the Replenishing Potion."

Harry remembered that when Mr. Weasley had been bitten by Voldemort's snake last year, he'd had to take liberal amounts of Blood-Replenishing Potion to combat the effects of the snake's venom, which kept his wounds flowing despite treatments by St. Mungo's Healers. He had never heard that Mr. Weasley had to take a Calming Draught. Nevertheless, he opened his mouth, accepting the spoonful of potion. After a few moments his head slumped onto his chest, and Harry felt extremely tired.

"Down you go, dear," Pomfrey said soothingly in his ear, rolling Harry onto his back and lifting his feet into the bed, then covering him with a blanket. "Sorry about this, but Dumbledore wants you to sleep the rest of the night." She looked up as the infirmary door opened again and Dumbledore himself slipped into the room.

"How is he?" the headmaster asked Pomfrey, quietly.

"Resting comfortably," the nurse answered, in an equally soft voice. "I gave him a dose of Sleeping Draught to put him out for a while, so I can perform some tests on him, to determine what's at the root of his tiredness and inability to sleep."

But Harry was _not_ asleep, contrary to what the nurse and the headmaster believed. The Sleeping Draught had put his body to sleep, but not his mind. His breathing was slow and steady, just as if he were asleep, but his mind was still racing. In fact, he seemed _more_ alert now than he had when awake — even with his eyes closed he could tell exactly where Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore were in the room.

"Good," the headmaster was saying. "Please let me know when you discover the cause of Mr. Potter's symptoms. I will be working in my study." Harry heard the professor's footsteps, quite clearly despite the fact he was wearing slippers instead of boots, his customary footwear during the day. The professor left the infirmary, and Harry listened to him padding away down the corridor. It seemed to take some time before they finally faded away.

"Well, let's see what going on with you, Mr. Potter," Harry heard Madam Pomfrey say, now quite close to him. He heard the sound of a wand being drawn from a robe's pocket, heard the _swish_ of its motions above him.

"Hmm. Curious," Pomfrey muttered. "Quite curious." The swishing sounds continued. "Oh, my…" she muttered, and Harry heard rapid footsteps toward her office. Listening intently, he heard the sound of a quill being dipped in ink, the scratching of it against parchment. She was writing a note to Dumbledore, Harry surmised. What had she discovered about his condition?

The scratching suddenly stopped. Harry concentrated, trying to figure out what she was doing next. There was an almost inaudible sound of cloth against wood. What could that be? Harry wondered. He continued to listen, trying to figure out what she was doing next, when a hand suddenly slid beneath his back. Who was this, Harry wondered. He had heard no footsteps approaching him.

Fingers pressed softly on his chin, opening his mouth. He felt a glass vial pressed against his lips, and the sensation of liquid being poured into his mouth. A hand pushed his mouth closed, and fingers squeezed his nostrils shut. "Swallow," a familiar-sounding voice whispered near his ear. Harry did so, feeling the liquid sliding down his throat. Within a few seconds his eyes fluttered open once again, and Harry found a tall, pale figure hunched over him.

"Hello, Harry," von Necros smiled thinly, staring down at him with those deep, black, mesmerizing eyes. "We meet again — sooner than I expected, to be quite honest."


	3. Recruitment

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Three  
>"<strong>Recruitment"<strong>

Updated October 14, 2011

Harry sat up. The effects of the Sleeping Draught were completely gone now, removed by whatever potion von Necros had given him. But what he'd been given wasn't the first question on his mind.

"What did you _do_ to me?" he asked angrily, now remembering their first conversation aboard the Hogwarts Express. "And how did you get in here? The enchantments are supposed to prevent Dark beings or creatures from entering the grounds!"

If von Necros was upset by Harry's outburst, he gave no sign. "That should tell you something about vampires," he pointed out, mildly. "'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,'" he added, quoting Shakespeare. "My intentions are for good."

"But what did you _do_?" Harry demanded again. "I've felt strange ever since I got off the train at King's Cross!"

"Strange in what way?" von Necros asked, curious.

"I wake up tired," Harry started listing his symptoms, checking them off on his fingers as he did so. "I'm tired all day long. I have no appetite. At night I suddenly feel wide awake and can't get to sleep. Then I black out, waking up in places I have no idea how I got to." He glared at von Necros. "None of this happened to me until I woke up after talking to you!"

Von Necros was silent for a moment, staring at Harry. He reached up, touching the base of his neck with a long-fingered hand. "Have you felt any pain or discomfort in your neck or shoulder, just about here?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, touching the spot von Necros had pointed out. "My neck has felt funny — I've had some pain there."

"Mmm," von Necros looked discomfited. "I have never encountered such a reaction before. Most peculiar. Most do not experience such symptoms until much later —"

"Later in _what_? What is it?" Harry demanded.

"Your symptoms are consistent with advanced onset of vampirism," von Necros explained. "I am sorry, Harry — I thought it would be several months before you reached this stage of development."

Harry was staring at von Necros in slaw-jawed horror. "_Vampirism_?" he exclaimed. His hand went to his neck. "What did you _do_ to me, von Necros? I don't want to be a vampire!"

"You wanted to defeat Voldemort, remember?" the vampire reminded him. "At any cost, you said. And it has cost me as well — I have taken your blood without your consent, though you did give me implicit permission to do so. As a vampire, you will have the best chance of defeating him."

"A half-vampire, you mean?" Harry retorted. "I don't think Sanguini would have what it takes to beat Voldemort!"

"No," von Necros shook his head slowly. "He wouldn't. But your symptoms are well beyond half-vampirism now, Harry — you will become a full vampire, perhaps before the end of your school year."

"A full vampire, like you?" Harry shook his head violently. "I don't want to defeat Voldemort _that_ bad!" he nearly shouted. "I want to do it on my own, not as some undead Dark creature skulking through the night, drinking people's blood!"

Von Necros sighed. "Harry," he said patiently. "I have already told you that vampires need not drink human blood to survive. You can become quite powerful drinking just the blood of animals."

"Oh yeah? That's really comforting," Harry snorted sarcastically. "If you turn me into a vampire, I'll be able to destroy Voldemort right away, then?"

Von Necros looked diffident. "Most vampires mature in 20 to 50 years," he conceded. "But —"

"But we don't _have_ 50 years before Voldemort takes over Britain!" Harry pointed out, shrilly. "What the hell were you _thinking_?"

"Calm down, Harry," von Necros put his hands on Harry's shoulders, trying to quiet him, but Harry pushed them away.

"I'm _not_ going to calm down," he snapped, though his voice was much less strident than before. "Not unless you tell me how I can go back to being normal!"

"Vampirism is not reversible, Harry," von Necros said, looking unhappy. "I am sorry you are not sanguine about it, if you'll excuse my poor humor, but you will eventually become a vampire."

"Why?" Harry asked, his voice tight with anger. "What did your bite do to me?"

"A vampire's saliva infects the victim's blood" von Necros explained. "It also causes the bite wounds to close more rapidly than normal. I injected extra saliva into your wounds, to heal them more quickly so as to draw less attention to them."

Harry's expression twisted in disgust. "Vampire _spit_ in my neck? Gross!"

Von Necros did not look at all abashed. "I believe the additional saliva also accelerated the onset of your condition," he said. "There may be something special about your blood, something that is making it interact much more quickly with the infection than normal."

"Great," Harry said, bitterly. "I've got vampire-prone blood, then."

"_Is_ there anything special about your blood, Harry?" von Necros asked, curious. "Did you ever have any blood-related magic performed on you?"

Harry stared at the vampire. "My mum," he said, after a moment. "She sacrificed herself to protect me. Dumbledore told me that her blood protected me from his Killing Curse when I was a child, and Voldemort couldn't even touch me afterwards, until he used my own blood to restore himself to his original form."

"So Voldemort shares your blood?" von Necros smiled. "Excellent, excellent!"

The vampire's enthusiasm startled Harry. "Wait, why 'excellent? '" he asked.

"As a vampire," von Necros replied, "Your blood may give you power over Voldemort's mind. Even if that's not the case, his taking your blood has linked your life to his."

Harry unconsciously touched the lightning scar on his forehead. "I already hear his thoughts, sometimes, especially when he's upset or angry."

Von Necros nodded. "A connection to his thoughts as well," he murmured. "Quite illuminating. We did well to choose you, Harry Potter."

Harry got angry again. "You bloody well chose me against my will!" he said, his voice growing loud again. "Why me, then? What kind of plan do you have for me to defeat Voldemort?"

"It may be too soon to reveal many details to you," von Necros temporized. "But I can give you the basic plan.

"I told you earlier that Voldemort is trying to negotiate with vampires for our support during his upcoming war effort," von Necros went on. "We have been extending the negotiations while we searched for someone we believe will have an advantage over Voldemort. We believe that person is _you_, Harry, based on information we've gathered about your interaction with him, including your duel with him shortly after his return."

"How would you know about that?" Harry wanted to know. "Only Death Eaters were present when Voldemort returned."

"We have certain — sources — within Voldemort's Death Eaters," von Necros answered. "At the moment, however, their identity must remain hidden, even from you."

Harry backtracked to the other point von Necros had made. "What kind of advantage do you think I'll have over Voldemort?" he asked. "If I become a vampire, you said I'll lose any magical ability I have now. That seems like a disadvantage, if I can't fight him magically."

"His power already dwarfs yours, Harry," von Necros warned him. "Your only advantage as a wizard is the blood protection of your mother, and Voldemort has already rendered that moot by taking your blood into himself."

"And how's being a vampire going to help me?" Harry snapped. "What's my advantage then?"

"You will be much stronger and faster than you were as a human," von Necros informed him. "Your senses — the ones you retain — will be much sharper than human as well. You will be more resistant to damage, and will heal much more quickly than normal, except for damage from silver weapons, from other vampires or from lycanthropes, and from being touched by a holy symbol wielded by the faithful.

"You will also be able to control humans with your mind, entrancing them and altering their perceptions. This will be less effective against a powerful wizard, however, or a strong lycanthrope."

"That's not much advantage," Harry muttered.

"More than you think," von Necros disagreed. "As vampires mature, they gain abilities such as flight, the ability to remain so still that humans cannot detect them, and move with no sound. You did not hear me when I entered this place, did you?"

Harry shook his head. That was true enough — he'd heard only Madam Pomfrey until von Necros gave him the potion that allowed him to awaken. And thinking about that— "Er — what did you do to Madam Pomfrey?"

Von Necros turned toward the nurse's office. "I have entranced her, she was preparing a message to Dumbledore about you." He handed Harry a piece of parchment. "Would you like to read what she wrote?"

Harry took the note, opened it and read what Madam Pomfrey had written.

* * *

><p><em>Albus —<em>

_My initial examination of Harry Potter revealed a growing infection within him, an affection consistent with advanced vampirism._

_The extent of the infection indicates he has been bitten multiple times, though there are no external indications such as bite marks. His neck does have some redness — I believe his bites were healed somehow._

_We must transport Mr. Potter to St. Mungo's, where the Healers in the Creature-Induced Injuries ward may be able to treat the condition. I also strongly suggest we take precautions here at Hogwarts such as placing garlic around entrances and windows, in the event a vampire has been biting him here in the school._

_I cannot over-emphasize how immediate our response to this threat must be. We must act quickly, both for Harry's sake and for the welfare of all our students._

_—Madam Poppy Pomfrey_

* * *

><p>Harry looked up at von Necros. "I could not allow her to send that note to Dumbledore," he said. "We need you to remain here, as if nothing was wrong, and learn whatever else Dumbledore knows about Voldemort.<p>

"As if nothing was wrong," Harry repeated, and laughed bitterly. "_Now_ you say that!"

"Harry, it is vitally important we do nothing to make Voldemort suspect that things are different here at Hogwarts," von Necros cautioned him. He stood, moving quickly and with an easy, flowing grace to the door of Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry stood as well, following him, to see what von Necros was up to.

Inside the office, they found Madam Pomfrey slumped over her desk, her head on her folded hands, as if she had merely fallen asleep from exhaustion. Von Necros touched her shoulder and she sat up, her expression blank.

"_You will remember nothing of your initial examination of Harry Potter_," the vampire intoned, his voice commanding attention. The nurse nodded slowly.

"_You will remember finding nothing wrong with Harry Potter_," von Necros continued. "_You will write a note to Dumbledore telling him that Harry was merely suffering from anemia, and that you have corrected the problem. Do you understand_?"

Pomfrey nodded again, then took out a piece of parchment and quill, and began writing.

* * *

><p><em>Albus—<em>

_My examination of Harry Potter has revealed he is suffering from anemia. The Blood-Replenishing Potion I gave him should alleviate this problem, and he will sleep peacefully through the night. I will discharge him in the motion, and he will be able to attend classes._

_I am relieved this condition was caught before his health worsened, and gratified by your concern for him and all your students._

_—Madam Poppy Pomfrey_

* * *

><p>"Very good," von Necros smiled, reading the note as Pomfrey wrote. "You should go back to your bed," he said to Harry. "Lie down and pretend to be asleep. I will allow Madam Pomfrey to awaken and send the note to Dumbledore."<p>

"Wait a minute," Harry objected. "How does this fix how I feel — I wake up every morning tired, too tired to do more than drag myself from class to class! And what about my friends?" he added, staring at the vampire intently.

"What about them?" von Necros asked. "What are you asking me?"

"I mean, what happens if I _bite_ them?" Harry hissed angrily. "What if I suddenly get the urge to turn _them_ the way you turned _me_?"

"You won't," von Necros shook his pale, gaunt head. "You will not desire to drink blood until after you become a vampire."

"And what's going to stop _that_ from happening?" Harry wanted to know. "You bit me, after all! Won't I turn into a vampire?"

"Not unless I drain enough of your blood to kill you," von Necros answered. "And it is too early for that, yet. Our plan for Voldemort is proceeding apace, Harry. For now, however —"

The vampire reached into his robes, drawing out a cardboard box the size of a box of matches and handing it to Harry. "Open it," he said.

Harry did so. Inside he found it filled with small vials, each one a little over an inch in length, filled with a black liquid. There were several dozen of them in the box. "What's this?" Harry asked.

"Drink one of these each morning when you awaken," von Necros explained. "They will restore your strength, enabling you to move around like a normal human in the daytime. When it wears off, in the evening, you will feel tired enough to fall asleep until morning. This box will last about two months — we will meet again then, to reassess your situation."

Harry felt anger building up within in. "My _situation_?" he growled. "My situation is, you've destroyed my life! Even if I agree to help you against Voldemort, what happens to me after he's gone? I can't just go back to being Harry Potter again — you've told me there's no way to reverse this!"

"You may not believe this," von Necros said, after a momentary silence. "But you may find that becoming a vampire is the best thing that ever happened to you."

"I find that pretty hard to believe," Harry muttered, looking away from the vampire. He felt only disgust and self-loathing at what he'd become. "Who wants to live forever, if it means drinking the blood of others to survive?"

"Harry," von Necros said, trying to be patient with him. "When I was first turned, my life was much the way you think vampirism is — I drank the blood of the living every night, reveling in my power over humans, certain I wanted nothing more than to prey on humans, to bend them to my will.

"But a few hundred years ago I became dissatisfied with satiating my lust for blood, and sought a new way to live my life — or my unlife, if you prefer." A smiled quirked von Necros' lips, though Harry did not respond to it. "I found there are humans who wish partake of the blood rituals, who _enjoy_ giving themselves to us, who voluntarily allow us to drink from them. I have not drunk the blood of an unwilling human in nearly 200 years. I have even gone for long periods where l drank no human blood at all, relying only on the blood of animals for my sustenance. You can do the same. You do not even need to drink human blood at all, though human blood makes us more powerful."

"I don't want power," Harry sighed resignedly. "I only want to be normal, for once. Not to be the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Chosen One — just me, Harry Potter."

"We do not choose our fate," von Necros replied, sadly. "It chooses us, for better or worse."

"Yeah," Harry said, heavy irony in his voice. "Like you chose mine for me."

Von Necros said nothing. Presently Harry shook his head. "Fine," he said, resignation still in his voice. "I'll do what you say, to be rid of Voldemort, and because it looks like I have no other choice."

"It is the right choice, Harry," von Necros assured him. "When we next talk, I will tell you what we plan to do to accelerate your development as a vampire. Rather than take decades to mature, it will only be weeks before you are capable of doing anything a fully-matured vampire can do.

"Now, I must leave you," von Necros said. "Dawn approaches, and I must be safe and secure before it arrives. Remember to drink a vial of potion every morning," he advised, pointing to the box in Harry's hands. "And do not show that box to anyone, not even your dearest friend. Vampirism has a way of alarming people, making them act rashly and without due consideration."

"No kidding?" Harry snorted. "I never would have thought that." He walked back to his hospital bed, hiding the box of potion vials beneath his robes on the bedside cabinet next to him. Lying down on the bed, he arranged himself in the same position Pomfrey had left him in, before von Necros awakened him. Von Necros nodded to him, and Harry closed his eyes.

A few moments later he heard Madam Pomfrey stir. She sat up at her desk, shaking her head. "Must've dozed off," Harry heard her mutter under her breath, then heard the sound of her picking up the parchment on her desk. "I best get this up to Dumbledore," she told herself, and Harry heard her wand being drawn from her robe. There was a _tap_, then the sound of the parchment folding itself, and the flutter of wings as it took flight out of the Infirmary and off to Dumbledore's office. Harry stopped listening, wondering if he would be able to pretend he was asleep until morning.

Even as he pondered, however, Harry felt a suddenly lethargy fall over him, and within moments he was breathing slowly and steadily, asleep.

Being a vampire sucked, Harry had decided, a day later. He was so distracted that he didn't even bother to wince at the joke he'd made.

The potion von Necros had given him worked as promised; after imbibing a vial in the morning before breakfast he felt refreshed and full of energy, just as he had right after waking up on the Hogwarts Express. And the effect lasted all day — he attended all his classes and felt perfectly fine afterwards, although his appetite at meals was still spotty. Harry would pick over meat dishes, finding them too dry. His stomach no longer tolerated bread or porridge very well, and he now preferred his eggs quite runny. Ron would give him sidelong glances at meals as he tucked into his own plateful of food.

"Better eat up, Harry," he finally said. "You need your energy for Quidditch practice."

"Yeah," Harry muttered agreement, but inwardly he groaned. Daylight was still a problem, even with von Necros' potion; Harry could barely tolerate it even now, when the sun barely peeked out behind the clouds. What was it going to do to him on a clear day?

His spells were becoming more erratic as well, though whether it was due to the vampirism in his system or his increasing distraction over the situation, Harry couldn't tell. He wished he could talk to Hermione about it — talking to Ron was right out; Harry knew of his aversion to Dark creatures — he was almost as afraid of them as he was of spiders. Hermione would be more level-headed about it, Harry felt. Or — he hoped so! She might be as repulsed at having a friend who was a vampire as Ron would be. He would have to seriously consider talking to her about this. She might be the only voice of reason he could trust here at Hogwarts, with the exception of Professor Dumbledore, though he might have damaged their friendship with his reaction to Dumbledore's lack of concern over the conversation between Malfoy and Snape. But probably not, Harry hoped.

Ron and Hermione still weren't talking to one another. At least, he corrected himself, _she_ wasn't talking with _him_ — Ron now seemed almost anxious to talk to Hermione. He took every opportunity to speak to her, even though she resolutely ignored him, speaking only to Harry or whoever else happened to be about, and left his presence as soon as possible, sparing him only contemptuous glares as she departed.

By the end of that first week back at school, word had evidently reached Dumbledore that Harry was back to normal. _If only that were true_, Harry thought morosely. His life was never going to be the same again, and all because he chatted up some stupid, bloody vampire because he kept Snape from discovering he and Luna had been eavesdropping on him and Malfoy.

The teachers had been treating him a bit delicately lately as well. Slughorn, at his last Potions class for the week, had given them an easy reading assignment in class, then clapped Harry on the back at the end of the lesson, saying, "Harry, my boy, I hope you're feeling better soon. Next week's lesson will be a real test of your logic at Potion-making." After the class, Hermione had walked past him, stopping just long enough to mutter, "Logic, huh? We'll see how well the Prince can help you with that, won't we?" She smiled sweetly at him, threw Ron another contemptuous scowl, then stalked away.

"Blimey," Ron breathed, looking at Hermione as she left. "She's becoming rather vindictive, isn't she? I thought she just hated _me_ now — but she's really got it in for you too, Harry."

"Or the Half-Blood Prince, more likely," Harry corrected him. "She'd probably stop being so standoffish if I just handed in the book." _The book_ was the copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ that Harry had found in a cabinet in Slughorn's Potions classroom on his first day of class. In it, Harry had found hundreds of additions to the text, additions which proved uncannily useful in class during the course of the term. Hermione had demanded that he turn it in, that no one knew who the "Half-Blood Prince" was. The name was written in small, cramped handwriting on the back cover of the book, though neither Harry nor Hermione could figure out who it could be. Harry had even asked Remus Lupin during the Christmas break, but he'd had no idea who it was, either.

One teacher who definitely was _not_ cutting Harry any slack was Snape. In the last Defense Against the Dark Arts class of their first week back, Snape announced an unscheduled quiz. Students groaned, knowing Snape's quizzes were brutal. "Quiet," Snape commanded. "You should be thanking Mr. Potter for this opportunity to sharpen up your Defense skills. Now, quills out."

Harry shrank into his seat a bit, loathing Snape yet again for his heavy-handed treatment. A few moments later, he had even more reason to hate the Defense teacher. Snape passed out the quiz to each row of students, and Harry saw several questions concerning vampires.

Hermione's hand was already in the air. Snape ignored her as long as he could. "Yes, Miss Granger?" he finally asked, in a bored, condescending tone. "A question regarding the quiz?"

"Yes sir," Hermione said. "We studied vampires back in first year — Professor Quirrell told us that he encountered a few in the Black Forest."

"Then you should already know the answers, should you not?" Snape retorted. "You have 30 minutes from…_now_."

Some of the questions were trivial, making Harry wonder why Snape even bothered to include them. Not only that, but they were worded so that anyone could figure out the correct answer with a little thought, even if they didn't know much about vampires.

**What do vampires eat?**  
>(a) Blood.<br>(b) Blood pudding.  
>(c) Blood-flavored lollipops.<br>(d) (a) and (c).  
>(e) (a), (b), and (c).<p>

**Can vampires move about in daylight?**  
>(a) Yes, but they are weakened by it.<br>(b) Yes, but only on cloudy days.  
>(c) Yes, but only on days where the moon is full.<br>(d) Yes, but only after using a Sunblock Potion.

**How do vampires react to direct sunlight?**  
>(a) It kills them.<br>(b) It makes them weak.  
>(c) Both (a) and (b).<br>(d) Neither (a) nor (b).

A horrific thought occurred to Harry. In their third year, Snape sometimes took Remus Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes when Lupin wasn't present. During one class he had asked several questions about werewolves, about how to look for signs identifying them. Snape had known Lupin was a werewolf because they both attended Hogwarts at the same time, as had Harry's father and Sirius Black.

But how could Snape possibly know what had happened to him? Was it that obvious he was exhibiting signs of vampirism? Harry had begun taking von Necros' potion the morning after it had been given it to him — the only signs he exhibited now was low appetite and an aversion to sunlight. Much the same could be said of Snape, Harry thought viciously, who was both thin and sallow-skinned.

The new week arrived with more good news. At lunch on Sunday, Neville handed Harry a note from Dumbledore, inviting him to his study that evening for another lesson. "I hope these lessons aren't going to take all year," Ron quipped, when Harry showed him the note. "Or at least you won't have a test at the end."

Harry just shook his head. He remembered Dumbledore telling him that memories they would be viewing next were very important ones, though he hadn't explained why before sending Harry down to the infirmary. "I'll let you know," he promised Ron.

Once again at the appointed time Harry gave the password to the gargoyle guarding the moving staircase to Dumbledore's study. He knocked on the large oaken door and the headmaster bade him enter.

"I trust you are feeling better this week, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, after they had seated themselves on opposite sides of the large, claw-footed oaken desk, the Pensieve resting on its highly-polished surface.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to continue with our lesson last week," he added.

"Oh, no need to apologize, Harry," Dumbledore waved off the apology. Harry noticed once again that his right hand was as blackened and withered as ever. "I'm sure you were simply tired last week, from all your Christmas holiday celebrating."

Harry managed to look acquiescent; he did not want to give the headmaster reason to think otherwise. However, he realized, if Snape had some inkling what was wrong with him, he'd expect he'd be in Dumbledore's office straightaway, accusing him of being a vampire. Harry hoped that the fact Dumbledore had said nothing so far was an indication that either Snape _wasn't_ sure about him, or it had merely been a coincidence.

And Harry was becoming skeptical about coincidences.

"So," Dumbledore spoke in a lecturing, ringing tone. "We will continue this evening with the tale of Tom Riddle, whom we left during our previous Pensieve session on the threshold of his years at Hogwarts." He went on to describe Riddle as a quiet boy attending lessons in his secondhand robes, who had been sorted into Slytherin almost the moment the Sorting Hat touched his head. He showed no outward sign of arrogance or aggression at all, despite his treatment of other children at the London orphanage where he'd grown up.

"But you didn't really trust him, sir, did you?" Harry inquired, as Dumbledore paused. "He told me…the Riddle who came out of that diary said, 'Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did.'"

"Let us say that I did not take it for granted that he was trustworthy," Dumbledore answered him, with a small smile. "I had, as I have already indicated, resolved to keep a close eye upon him, and so I did." Dumbledore continued to explain his observation of Riddle, noting that the young man was very guarded around him; perhaps, Dumbledore theorized, because Tom had, in the thrill of discovering his true identity, that he had let too much slip to the headmaster.

Riddle gathered a following about him, a group of dedicated friends, though Dumbledore was careful to add that Riddle undoubtedly felt no friendship or affection for them. They were a motley collection of the weak seeking protection, the ambitious seeking to share glory, and the thugs siding with a leader who could show them more refined forms of cruelty. This group was rigidly controlled by Riddle, and were never detected in open wrongdoing, but there were several nasty incidents during their years there, culminating in the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, which resulted in the death of a girl. _Moaning Myrtle_, Harry thought to himself.

Placing his withered hand on the Pensieve, Dumbledore explained that there were few memories of Riddle from his days at Hogwarts. Most of the people who knew him then were too terrified to talk about him now; what little Dumbledore knew he had acquired after much painstaking effort, tricking some into speaking about him. He explained that those whom Dumbledore could persuade into talking described Tom's obsession about his parentage. He had searched in vain for some information on Tom Riddle Senior throughout the trophy and awards room at Hogwarts, even in the books of Wizarding history. Once he accepted that his father had never attended the school, he dropped the name forever, becoming Lord Voldemort. After that, he began researching his mother Merope, whom he at first disbelieved could be a witch because she had succumbed to the shameful human weakness of death. After painstaking research, Riddle found in old books of Wizarding families the existence of Slytherin's surviving line, the Gaunts.

At this point Dumbledore rose to his feet. "And now, Harry, if you will stand…" He poured one of the vials of silver thoughts into the Pensieve. "I was very lucky to collect this," he commented. "As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?"

Harry and Dumbledore entered the memory. In it, he saw the old Gaunt house that they had visited in a previous memory, when Bob Ogden first attempted to bring Morfin Gaunt in for hexing Muggles in Little Hangleton. It was even filthier than before, Harry thought, realizing that some time had passed since the previous memory of this place. They were standing near Morfin, who was slumped in an armchair by the fire, his hair and beard so overgrown Harry could barely make out his features. There was a knock on the door, which then creaked open, revealing a young man Harry instantly recognized: the teenaged Riddle, now tall, pale, dark-haired and handsome, a striking contrast to the grimy, dirty Morin.

Harry and Dumbledore watched the exchange between Voldemort and Morfin, watched as Morfin ranted about his sister's fascination with a filthy Muggle. He even noted Voldemort's resemblance to the man who his sister had dishonored herself with, in his opinion. Morfin had worked himself nearly into a rage over his sister's indiscretions, when suddenly the memory went dark, and Dumbledore's fingers closed around Harry's arm, and they suddenly found themselves back in Dumbledore's office.

"Is that all?" Harry asked at once. "Why did it go dark, what happened?"

Dumbledore gestured for Harry to sit down again. "Because Morfin could not remember anything from that point onward," he said. "When he awoke next morning, he was lying on the floor, quite alone. Marvolo's ring had gone.

"Meanwhile, in the village of Little Hangleton, a maid was running along the High Street, screaming that there were three bodies lying in the drawing room of the big house: Tom Riddle Senior and his mother and father."

Dumbledore went on to explain that the Ministry of Magic, unlike the Muggle authorities, knew immediately that a wizard murder had occurred. They also knew that a convicted Muggle-hater, Morfin Gaunt, lived across the valley from the Riddle house, a Muggle-hater that had already been imprisoned for attacking on of the murdered people. They therefore called upon Morfin, who admitted the murder on the spot, and even handed over his wand, which was proven to have been used to kill the Muggles. And he permitted himself to be led off to Azkaban without a fight.

"So Voldemort stole Morfin's wand and used it?" Harry guessed.

Dumbledore explained his belief about Voldemort _Stupeying_ his uncle Morfin, taking his wand and using it to murder his father and grandparents, and then returning the wand to Morfin after implanting the false memory of Morfin's involvement in the crime. He was never aware that he was innocent, but made a full and boastful confession.

"But — how come the Ministry didn't realize that Voldemort had done all that to Morfin? He was underage at the time, wasn't he? I thought they could detect underage magic!" The implications were starting to make Harry angry — they had blamed him quickly enough when Dobby performed magic at Privet Drive, four years ago.

"You are quite right," Dumbledore confirmed. "They can detect magic, but not the perpetrator: You will remember that you were blamed by the Ministry for the Hover Charm that was, in fact, cast by —"

"Dobby," Harry growled. He was still rankled by that bit of injustice done against him. "So if you're underage and you do magic inside an adult witch or wizard's house, the Ministry won't know?"

"They will certainly be unable to tell who performed the magic," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly at the look of great indignation on Harrys face. "They rely on witch and wizard parents to enforce their offspring's obedience while within their walls."

"Well, that's rubbish," snapped Harry. "Look what happened here, look what happened to Morfin!"

"I agree," said Dumbledore. "Whatever Morfin was, he did not deserve to die as he did, blamed for murders he had not committed. But it is getting late, and I want you to see this other memory before we part…"

Dumbledore took out another crystal phial and poured it into the Pensieve. Harry noted that it seemed to pour sluggishly, like molasses. Did Pensieve memories go bad? He wondered.

They leaned over the Pensieve once again, and Harry found himself facing a man he recognized instantly, in spite of the difference in his appearance between then and now: Horace Slughorn, who was thinner and with much more hair than he had today, though there was still a bald spot on the crown of his straw-colored head. As Dumbledore appeared beside him Harry saw that they were in Slughorn's office, with half a dozen boys seated around him. He must have held Slug Clubs back then as well, Harry decided. At that moment he recognized one of the boys with a start: Voldemort. Of the boys surrounding Slughorn, he appeared both the most handsome and the most relaxed. Studying him, Harry was surprised to see Marvolo's gold-and-black ring on his finger; he had already killed his father and grandparents, as the previous memory implied.

"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?" Voldemort was asking Slughorn.

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," Slughorn said, reprovingly, though Harry caught the Potions Master winking at Riddle. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are." Riddle smiled at that; the other boys were casting him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't," Slughorn continued, taking a bite of what he was holding, "and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite —"

Then something odd happened. The room seemed to fill with a thick white fog, so dense that the only thing Harry could see was the face of Dumbledore standing next to him. Then Slughorn's voice rang out through the mist, unnaturally loudly, "You'll go wrong, boy, mark my words!" That statement made no sense to Harry — Slughorn had just been praising Riddle! Why would he say something like that immediately after?

The fog cleared as suddenly as it had appeared and yet neither Riddle, nor Slughorn, nor any of the other boys in the room seemed to have noticed it. Bewildered, Harry looked around as a small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" Slughorn exclaimed. "You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery." The group of boys, with the exception of Voldemort, rose and trooped out of Slughorn's study. Harry could tell he had stayed behind deliberately, wanting to be last in the room with the Potions teacher.

Slughorn turned around and, finding him still present, gestured toward the door. "Look sharp, Tom. You don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect —"

Riddle nodded, but then said, "Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about…about Horcruxes?"

And once again the same dense fog filled the room, so that Harry could not see Slughorn or Voldemort at all, only Dumbledore, still smiling serenely, right beside him. Then Slughorn's voice boomed out again, just as it had before. "I don't know anything about Horcruxes and I wouldn't tell you if I did! Now get out of here at once and don't let me catch you mentioning them again!" Even the fog then seemed to fade away, leaving them standing in darkness.

"Well, that's that," Dumbledore told Harry. "Time to go." Harry's feet left the floor to fall, seconds later, back onto the rug in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"That was strange," Harry muttered, more to himself than the headmaster. He looked up at Dumbledore. "That's all there is?" he asked, blankly. Dumbledore had said that this was the most important memory of all, but he could not see what was so significant about it. Admittedly the fog, and the fact that nobody seemed to have noticed it, was odd, but other than that nothing seemed to have happened except that Voldemort had asked a question and failed to get an answer. Harry remembered von Necros mentioning Horcruxes to him — now he wondered whether the headmaster would explain to him what it was.

But Dumbledore was gazing quite intently at Harry now. "As you might have noticed," he pointed out, reseating himself behind his desk, "that memory has been tampered with."

"Tampered with?" Harry repeated, and he sat back down as well. That might explain the fog, then, and why nobody but Harry and Dumbledore seemed to notice it.

Dumbledore nodded. "Certainly. Professor Slughorn has meddled with his own recollections."

"But why would he do that?" Harry wanted to know.

"Because, I think, he is ashamed of what he remembers," said Dumbledore. "He has tried to rework the memory to show himself in a better light, obliterating those parts which he does not wish me to see. It is, as you will have noticed, very crudely done, and that is all to the good, for it shows that the true memory is still there beneath the alterations.

"And so, for the first time, I am giving you homework, Harry. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory, which will undoubtedly be our most crucial piece of information of all."

Harry stared at him. This seemed to be something better suited to Dumbledore's skill and experience. "But surely, sir, you don't need me — you could use Legilimency…or Veritaserum…"

"Professor Slughorn is an extremely able wizard who will be expecting both," Dumbledore disagreed. "He is much more accomplished at Occlumency than poor Morfin Gaunt, and I would be astonished if he has not carried an antidote to Veritaserum with him ever since I coerced him into giving me this travesty of a recollection.

"No, I think it would be foolish to attempt to wrest the truth from Professor Slughorn by force, and might do much more harm than good; I do not wish him to leave Hogwarts. However, he has his weaknesses like the rest of us, and I believe that you are the one person who might be able to penetrate his defenses. It is most important that we secure the true memory, Harry…. How important, we will only know when we have seen the real thing. So, good luck … and good night."

Taken aback by the sudden dismissal, Harry leaned forward. "But sir…what is a Horcrux anyway? I've never heard of anything like that before." Which wasn't exactly true — von Necros had mentioned the word to him, the last time they met.

"That, I'm afraid, is something that must wait until have seen Horace's real memory," Dumbledore averred. "And now Harry, once again, good night."

Harry got to his feet and walked out, closing the study door behind him. The headmaster had once again been evasive about giving Harry the whole truth. He would have to talk to Hermione, see what she knew about Horcruxes. With any luck, von Necros would show up again shortly and explain it.

And this "homework assignment" with Slughorn! Hadn't Ron joked about there being a test at the end? On top of everything else Harry had to deal with, it was just another added problem. He would have to muddle through, somehow. Shaking his head resignedly, Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room, beginning to feel the effects of his daily potion wearing off. It seemed to happen a bit earlier every evening; before, he would have been up until midnight before he began feeling sleepy. Now, it was only around ten p.m. and already Harry was feeling fatigued.

Neither Ron nor Hermione were in the common room when he arrived. Harry waved to a few people who called him by name, but continued up the steps to the boys' dormitories, where he slipped into pajamas and dropped onto his bed. In only a few minutes he was snoring peacefully.

**Author's Note: I'm also starting a new story, a fan-fanfiction based on Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, by Less Wrong. My story is titled Harry Potter and the Methods of Chaos. Check out my story, and his. It's already 77 chapters long and nearly 450,000 words in length! But don't let that scare you off, it's a really good, thought-provoking read!**


	4. Surprise!

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Four  
>"<strong>Surprise!"<strong>

Updated October 28, 2011

It was some time before Harry could talk with Hermione or Ron about Horcruxes — the Potions class on Monday turned into a disaster from the standpoint of his friendship with them. He had confided to both of them, separately, of the task Dumbledore asked him to perform; Ron thought Harry should just ask Slughorn after class, while Hermione suggested he plan a strategy, after she admitted to him she had no idea what a Horcrux was. Harry decided to go with Ron's idea and speak to Slughorn after Potions class on Monday.

During that lesson, Slughorn set the class a practical: find the antidote to a vial of poison given to each student, using Golpalott's Laws as a guide. Walking past Hermione on his way back to his station, who had gone up immediately for her vial, she smiled brightly at Harry and said, "It's a shame that the Prince won't be able to help you much with this, Harry. You have to understand the principle involved this time. No short cuts or cheats!"

Harry said nothing, annoyed by her superior attitude at his expense, and returned to his cauldron, emptying the contents of the vial and kindling a fire beneath it, as he'd seen her do. After this point, however, he had not the slightest idea what to do next. Neither did Ron, who was standing nearby looking as lost as Harry was, having just copied what he'd done. "You sure the Prince hasn't got any tips for us?" he muttered at Harry, keeping his voice low enough that Hermione wouldn't hear.

Harry opened his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_, finding Golpalott's Third Law, just as Hermione had quoted it in class earlier:

Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components,

but there was nothing else about finding antidotes. He shook his head gloomily. "Nothing," he told Ron.

Close by, Hermione was enthusiastically waving her wand over her cauldron, but neither Harry nor Ron could copy her spells, as she was casting them nonverbally. They did overhear Ernie Macmillan incanting "_Specialis Revelio_" over his, though, so they hastened to do the same.

Within a few minutes Harry realized his reputation as the best student in Slughorn's class was about to crash and burn around him. Slughorn had peered into his cauldron, preparing to beam with delight at his progress, but hastily withdrew, coughing at the smell of bad eggs that issued from his steaming cauldron. Hermione smiled smugly at him as she separated the contents of her cauldron into different vials. Harry turned away from her, irritated, and flipped through a few more pages of _Advanced Potion-Making_, hoping to annoy her in return. His eyes caught sight of the familiar cramped handwriting, scrawled across the top of a long list of antidotes:

_Just shove a bezoar down their throats._

A bezoar? Hadn't he heard of those once, long ago? Yes, Snape had mentioned one during Harry's first-ever class with him, in first year! He remembered what Snape had said back then: "A stone taken from the stomach of a goat, which will protect from most poisons." This wasn't the answer Slughorn was looking for, Harry was sure, but he had nothing to lose by trying it. He hurtled over to the storage cupboard, pushing aside containers of powdered unicorn horn and dried herbs, until he found a small cardboard box with the word "Bezoars" on it.

"Two minutes, everyone!" Slughorn called just then. Harry grabbed one of the dried, shriveled stones, tossed the box back into the cupboard, then hurried back to his station. "Time's _up_!" Slughorn exclaimed, smiling at the class, and began moving around to check everyone's work. Hermione was still smiling smugly at him, seeing that his cauldron was still sending putrid fumes into the air, as were Ron and Ernie's.

Slughorn came to their table last. He passed over Ernie and Ron's cauldrons with no more than a grimace, then stood before Harry. "And you, Harry," he said. "What do you have for me?"

Harry held out his hand, the bezoar in his palm. Slughorn stared at it for a full ten seconds before saying anything. Harry held his breath, fearing the worst. Then Slughorn threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"Oh, you've got a nerve, boy!" he boomed, taking the bezoar and holding it up so that the class could see it. "You're like your mother …well, 1 can't fault you for that… a bezoar would certainly act as an antidote to all these potions!"

Hermione was giving him a poisonous glare, her half-finished antidote sitting on the desk beside her. Ron was looking at him incredulously, as was Ernie. But Slughorn only had eyes for Harry. He walked back to the front of the class, exclaiming with delight at Harry's sheer audacity and inventiveness in handing him a bezoar. "Thought of that all by yourself, did you?" she asked in a low tone, her teeth gritted with anger. Harry gave her a level look.

Well, _hadn't_ he remembered what a bezoar was by himself? The hint by the Half-Blood Prince might have been wrong, mightn't it? Of course, Harry had to admit to himself, the Prince hadn't been wrong yet.

The bell rang at that moment. "Time to pack up!" Slughorn told them. "And an extra ten points to Gryffindor for sheer cheek!" That final announcement did not go over very well with the other Houses in the class; it hadn't escaped them that Harry had just won ten points for doing nothing; Snape would have handed out a detention instead.

Both Ron and Hermione glared angrily at him as they packed up their stuff. Neither of them spoke to him before they left. Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins gave him rather nasty looks as they left. Unmoved by the Slytherins' reactions, Harry dawdled while packing up his stuff, hoping to be last in the room with Slughorn; it was his best bet at asking Slughorn about the mysterious Horcruxes.

Finally, he and Slughorn were alone. "Come now, Harry, you'll be late for your next lesson," Slughorn said affably, as he snapped closed the gold clasps on his dragon briefcase.

"Sir," Harry said, remembering how similar this conversation was going to be with Slughorn's original conversation with Voldemort. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, dear boy, ask away…"

"I wondered what you know, sir… about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn froze for several seconds, then turned to face Harry. His face had seemed to close in on itself. "_What_ did you say?"

"I asked whether you know anything about Horcruxes," Harry repeated. At Slughorn's inscrutable expression, he added, "You see, sir —"

"Dumbledore put you up to this," Slughorn whispered, his voice a hiss. He no longer appeared genial at all, but shocked and terrified. "Dumbledore's shown you that — that memory, hasn't he? _Well_?" The Potions Master was mopping his brow with a handkerchief, looking quite pale.

"Yes," Harry said, truthfully. It was no use to lie to Slughorn about this.

Slughorn continued to dab at his whitened face. "Of course he did… Well, if you've seen that memory, Harry, you'll know that I don't know anything — _anything _— about Horcruxes!"

This certainly was not how Harry had expected this conversation to go. Slughorn had seemed so impressed by him, only minutes earlier, that Harry supposed he would answer the question, however reluctantly. But Slughorn appeared ready to bolt from the room as he clutched his briefcase before him.

"Sir," Harry was desperate to salvage the situation. "I just thought there might be a bit more to the memory —"

"_Did_ you?" Slughorn said, shrilly. He hurried over to the door of the dungeon. "Then you were wrong, weren't you? WRONG!" Before Harry could say another word, the Potions Master slammed the door behind him.

Harry stared at the door for a full minute before picking up his own pack. _Well, that might have gone better_, he thought to himself. What was he going to do now that Slughorn knew he'd seen the memory? He found later that neither Ron nor Hermione were at all sympathetic about the disastrous interview: Hermione was still angry that he'd triumphed at the practical without doing any work, and Ron was annoyed that Harry hadn't given him a bezoar as well. He couldn't argue with Hermione, but Ron's attitude annoyed him more.

"It would've just looked stupid if we'd both done it!" Harry pointed out to Ron, irritably. Ron was not at all agreeable about this turn of logic, and Harry decided to leave both him and Hermione alone for a few days, to sort out his situation and try to come up with how to deal with Slughorn in the future. On top of all this, at some point in the future he was going to become a vampire — a _full_ vampire, not a half-vamp like Sanguini, which meant he was going to _die_.

=ooo=

The problem with Slughorn seemed to fade away after a few days. The Potions professor became his usual affable self toward Harry, who decided that he would let the matter drop, for now, then approach him again when he was in a more relaxed mood — say, after one of his dinner parties. They had become a routine event at Hogwarts this year as Slughorn entertained members of the Slug Club. Harry usually begged off of them, using homework or Quidditch practice as an excuse. This time, however, he would accept.

Except that no invitation was forthcoming from Slughorn for the next party. Harry even checked with Hermione and Ginny, and neither of them had received an invitation; Slughorn apparently _hadn't_ forgotten about the Horcrux thing and was determined not to give Harry another chance to bring it up. By the time January turned in February, when the snow melted off the grounds and the weather turned wet and dreary, Harry was beginning to wish von Necros would turn up for another visit, just so Harry could ask him about Horcruxes, in case he knew something.

The box of potion that von Necros had given him was becoming less and less effective, too. Harry was barely able to stay up past nine p.m. now; he would stagger up to his room and collapse into bed, unable to stay awake. The potion was also becoming less effective during the day; more and more, Harry began to feel tired during classes. Quidditch practice was pure torture, especially during clear days, though they were rare in February; Harry could barely stay on his broom, even on cloudy days. He began handing off practices to Ron or Ginny, feigning sickness. It wasn't much of a stretch for him to do, given how weak and tired he now felt eve on a cloudy day.

The beginning of February, along with the rainy weather, did bring one welcome change: Apparition lessons had begun, and the first lesson would be held indoors, due to the inclement weather. By then Hermione had gotten over her snit about the bezoar and, concerned about Harry's paleness and apparent ill-health, she had accompanied him down to the lesson (Ron had come down with Lavender). They went in the Great Hall, where the first lesson was to be held, to find the four House tables and all the seats had been removed. Harry saw rain lashing against the windows; the ceiling above them swirled with dark clouds. Harry had held off taking his morning potion as long as possible, so he felt more or less normal, glad for once not to have to go outside.

Along the wall nearest the double doors of the Great Hall were the four Heads of House — Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Spout—and a small wizard whom Harry took to be the Ministry Apparition instructor. He looked oddly colorless, Harry noticed — as if a gust of wind might blow him away. Was this a side-effect of repeated Disapparations, or whether his frail build simply lent itself to the ability.

It was also worth wondering, Harry considered, whether it would be useful for him to even learn Apparition, given that his magic would vanish when he became a vampire. That thought continued to depress him, and Harry put it out of his mind — for now, he would learn what he could, and if something happened that might alter his fate, he would welcome the chance to be a normal wizard again.

"Good morning," the Ministry wizard announced, after the Heads had called for quiet. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparation Instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition test at this time —"

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" McGonagall suddenly barked.

Everyone looked back at Malfoy, who was flushing a pale pink, furious at being reprimanded. He stepped away from Crabbe, whom he appeared to have been having a whispered argument with. Harry looked over at Snape, who also appeared annoyed, though Harry suspected it was more that McGonagall had reprimanded someone in his House.

Twycross continued as though there'd been no interruption. "— by which time, many of you may be ready to take your test.

"As you know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of his Hall, and you would be unwise to try.

"Now, I would like each of you to place yourselves so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you." Immediately there was a great scrambling and jostling among the students as they moved apart, banging into one another and ordering others out of their space. Harry saw an opportunity amid all the chaos and moved away from Hermione.

"Harry, where are you going?" she demanded, seeing him move away. Harry didn't answer her; he was moving to the back of the crowd, directly behind Malfoy. He hoped to hear a bit of the argument Malfoy and Crabbe were continuing to have.

"I don't know how much longer, all right?" Malfoy was saying to Crabbe, unaware that Harry was standing right behind him. Crabbe started to reply, but Malfoy cut him off.

"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crabbe — you and Goyle just do as you're told and keep a lookout!"

"I'd tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me," Harry muttered, just loud enough for Malfoy to hear.

Malfoy whirled around toward Harry, his hand flying to his wand, but just then the four Heads of House shouted "Quiet!" and silence fell. Glaring at Harry for a moment, Malfoy turned back to face the front.

Twycross commenced the lesson, beginning by conjuring wooden hoops in front of each student. He then began a rather forgettable lecture on the three D's of Apparation: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation. After describing each of them, he had each student fix their attention on the center of the wooden hoop in front of them — their destination. He then had them focus their determination to occupy that spot. The final step, which made the least amount of sense to Harry, was to turn on the spot, feeling one's way into nothingness, moving with deliberation. Harry tried to focus on the center of the hoop, but he had already forgotten what the three D's stood far. Around him, lots of other students were looking about apprehensively, alarmed at being expected to Apparate so early in the lesson.

Twycross called out the order to Apparate, and Harry spun on the spot, nearly losing his balance. He staggered, but he wasn't the only one. Most of the students in the Hall were trying to regain their balance or pick themselves up off the floor.

"Never mind, never mind," Twycross said. He didn't appear to have expected anyone to actually Apparate the first time. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions…"

The lesson continued with nothing interesting happening until the fourth attempt, when Susan Bones Splinched herself . The Heads of House converged on her, and there was a bang and a puff of smoke. When it cleared, Susan was standing there, reunited with her leg but with a look of horror on her face.

Nothing else interesting happened for the rest of the hour — Susan's Splinching had been the high point of their first lesson. At the end of the lesson, Twycross put on his cloak, Vanished the wooden hoops, and walked out of the Great Hall, accompanied by Professor McGonagall.

Ron hurried over to where Harry was standing. "How'd you do?" he asked. "I think I felt something the last time I tried — a kind of tingling in my feet."

"Your trainers are probably just too small, Won-Won," a voice behind them sneered; Hermione was walking past them at that moment.

Ron looked a bit stricken by her remark, but Harry ignored it. "I didn't feel anything," he told Ron. "But I don't care about that right now." He was watching Malfoy, who had walked out of the Great Hall as soon as the lesson ended.

"What d'you mean — you don't want to learn Apparition?" Ron looked at him incredulously.

"I'm not fussed, really," Harry said, then took Ron by the arm, to pull him toward the Entrance Hall, where Malfoy had gone. "I prefer flying. Look, hurry up, will you, there's something I want to do." Malfoy had gone into the door in the Entrance Hall that led to the Slytherin common room. Ron followed Harry at a run up the staircase, heading toward Gryffindor Tower.

Around the fifth floor, however, Harry found his energy running out. He slowed to a stop along one corridor, panting with the exertion of running. Ron stopped beside him. "You all right, Harry?" he asked, concerned. "You look pretty pale…"

Harry was bent over, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. "I — I'll be alright," he gulped, standing upright again. "Just need — a moment…"

They set out again, moving more slowly, avoiding a confrontation with Peeves, who was forcing anyone who wanted past him to set fire to their own pants. Within minutes, despite the detour Peeves forced them to take, they had reached Gryffindor Tower.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing here?" Ron asked Harry, who was panting heavily. The potion he had taken this morning wasn't helping him much anymore, especially after his attempts at Apparition.

"Up here," Harry wheezed, and they made their way across the common room and up the boys' staircase. As Harry hoped, their dormitory was empty. Harry went over to his trunk and began rummaging through it.

"Harry," Ron said, impatiently.

"Malfoy's using Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts," Harry explained. "He was arguing with Crabbe just now, and I want to know — aha!"

Harry had found the folded square of parchment he'd been looking for. He tapped it with his wand, muttering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good… or Malfoy is."

The Marauder's Map began appearing on the parchment. It showed a detailed plan of every floor of the castle and, moving around it, tiny labeled dots that signified each of the castle's occupants. Harry spread the Map on his bed. "Help me find Malfoy," he told Ron, and they both leaned over it, searching.

After a minute or so of looking, Ron suddenly pointed. "There! He's in the Slytherin common room, look — he's with Parkinson and Zabini and Crabbe and Goyle…"

Harry was disappointed he hadn't caught Malfoy somewhere he shouldn't be, in some suspicious location. But, things still weren't hopeless…

"I'm keeping an eye on him from now on," he said to Ron. "And the moment I see him somewhere, with Crabbe and Goyle keeping lookout, I'll get under the Invisibility Cloak and be off to find out what he's up to!"

Neville entered the dormitory at that moment and Harry fell silent. Keeping his eyes averted from his fellow Gryffindors, Neville went over to his trunk and began rummaging through it. Harry and Ron looked at each other, both smelling the strong odor of burnt material.

Harry tried determinedly over the next few weeks to catch Malfoy out of bounds somewhere, but he never could find him on the Map in a suspicious location. He did spot Crabbe and Goyle at times, moving around the castle on their own, and sometimes standing motionless in deserted corridors, but at these times Malfoy was nowhere to be found; indeed, it was impossible to locate him anywhere on the map! Perhaps Malfoy was leaving the school, somehow, but Harry couldn't believe that, given the high level of security that had been instituted at Hogwarts.

At the same time, Harry's own condition seemed to be steadily worsening. The daily potions, which Harry came to think of as a "Anti-Vampire Potion," was becoming increasingly ineffective, leaving Harry weaker and weaker during the day as well as sleepy earlier and earlier in the evening. Ironically enough, as he was forced to retire earlier each night, he would wake up in the early hours of the morning feeling more and more invigorated. During these times he would bring out the Marauder's Map and examine it, using his bedcovers to hide the light of his wand. Mostly, at these times, he would find Malfoy in his dormitory; a few times, however, Malfoy was nowhere to be found, lending even more mystery to his disappearances.

As Harry's condition worsened, Hermione's concern increased. In spite of his belief that she would be the voice of reason over his condition, he had not brought himself to talk to her about it. What would she do with the knowledge that he was going to become a vampire? Would she try to help him figure out some way to cure himself, or would she run to McGonagall — or worse, Dumbledore? Harry had no idea how the Headmaster might react to such news, especially given the lessons he'd been giving Harry about Voldemort. Was all that now moot as well? Harry could not imagine how such news would fit in with whatever Dumbledore had planned for him.

"Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested, the Sunday after their third Apparition lesson. They were sitting in the common room; the night before, Harry had skipped dinner to go up to his dormitory, feeling seriously tired and weak. That morning he had taken two of the Anti-Vampire Potion, hoping the extra dose would let him stay up to a more reasonable hour that evening. It had seemed to help; he'd felt normal during the day, though he hadn't eaten much that day, and it was already past the time the night before when he'd had to drag himself off to bed.

"Already been," Harry replied. It was true enough, even though he didn't mention it was back at the beginning of term, before he even knew what was wrong with him.

"What did she tell you?" Hermione asked immediately.

"She — er, made up some potion for me to drink," Harry said, evasively. That was untrue, of course; the potion had come from von Necros. "I take a little of it every day."

"What kind of potion is it?" Hermione looked very interested at this news.

"I'm not sure…" Harry said, vaguely.

"Really?" Hermione got a shrewd look on her face. "The Prince wasn't able to help you figure out what that potion was?"

Harry glared at her, annoyed. "You have to keep going back to that book, don't you?" he snapped.

"All right, all right, sorry!" Hermione said, contritely. She really didn't want to anger him at a time like this, when he was ill. "I'm just worried that you're not feeling well —" She fell silent as the portrait hole opened and Ron stepped through.

"All right there, Harry?" he asked as he walked up to the table, glancing at Hermione to give her a nod of greeting.

"Hello, Won-Won," she replied evenly, and both Harry and Ron winced slightly. It seemed she was never going to get over Ron seeing Lavender, Harry thought to himself. "How's Lavender?"

Ron seemed taken aback; it was the most interest she'd shown in some time. "Uh, good, I guess — she and I were just — eh, talking—after, er, dinner." He looked rather uncomfortable; Harry hardly blamed him, as lame as he'd sounded trying to avoid mentioning their snogging.

"Has she been helping you with your homework, then?" Hermione asked, smiling sweetly. _Low blow_, Harry thought, but could not suppress a small smile of his own.

"Um —" Ron looked rather nonplussed. "Well, we — er — sort of help each other with homework," he muttered. Now Harry _knew_ this was a lie — _he'd_ been helping Ron with homework, as much as he could, for the past few months, after he and Hermione went on the outs. But he gave no sign that Ron had said anything other than the stone cold truth.

"Well, that's good," Hermione replied brightly, still smiling sweetly. She looked at Harry. "I suppose I should be off to bed," she told him, and got to her feet, gathering up her book bag from the table. "I hope you feel better soon, Harry," she said, real concern in her voice.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said.

"Good night, Won-Won," she added, walking away without waiting for Ron to reply. After she walked away, Ron sighed gustily and dropped into one of the other chairs around the table.

"She's still pissed off at me, isn't she?" he asked, looking anxiously at Harry.

"What gave you your first clue, Sherlock?" Harry snorted. "_Obviously_ she's still mad at you."

"But she's not mad at _you _anymore," Ron retorted. "Even after that business with the bezoar in Slughorn's class!"

"Are you still mad at _me_?" Harry frowned. "I told you, it would look weird if we both had them!"

"I know, I know," Ron said, grudgingly. "It's just that — well, Slughorn doesn't give me the time of day in his class. He hasn't called me once by name yet this year — I seriously think he still doesn't even know who I am!"

As it seemed quite plausible, Harry had no comment on that. Ron took on a kinder tone as he asked, "So, how's it going for you, Harry? You've been pretty tired lately."

"Doing okay," Harry answered curtly, not wanting to get into a discussion about his health — he'd had enough of that from Hermione. He decided to distract Ron by asking, "How're you and Lavender doing?"

Ron seemed to close in on himself at the question. Harry imagined he had done much the same thing when Ron had asked about his health — it just seemed much more noticeable when Ron did it. "Er — okay," Ron finally answered.

"Planning on going to Hogsmeade with her?" Harry asked, taking a bit of the mickey out on Ron.

"Maybe," Ron hedged. "It's on my birthday this year, you know."

"Maybe she'll buy you another necklace," Harry teased. "She might get you one with 'My Valentine' on it. A late present…" Valentine's Day had come and gone this year without Ron mentioning anything about him and Lavender.

"Don't remind me," Ron groaned. "She was _not_ happy I didn't get her a present or anything."

"You _forgot_ Valentine's Day?" Harry asked, in mock horror. "Won-Won, that's unforgiveable!"

"Oh, shut it," Ron snapped, and Harry chuckled.

However, the next day, Monday, the issue of the Hogsmeade visit was rendered moot when a sign went up on all common room notice boards saying that the next trip into Hogsmeade had been canceled. Ron was furious about it.

"It's not a big surprise, though, is it?" Harry mused, as they left the common room for their first class. "Not after what happened to Katie." On the previous visit, last term, Katie had been cursed by a necklace she'd gotten under mysterious circumstances. She still wasn't back from St. Mungo's.

Ron was still grumpy. "Now all I've got to look forward to is stupid Apparition!" he groused.

"I thought you _wanted_ to learn to Apparate," Harry asked.

"Yeah," Ron admitted. "But if we could have gone to Hogsmeade I could've practiced doing it!"

"You can't Apparate without a license," Harry reminded him.

Ron snorted derision. "Big deal," he said, in a dismissive tone. "What the Ministry doesn't know won't hurt me."

_Words to the wise_, Harry told himself, thinking about his own condition.

The morning of the first of March, Harry and Ron were awakened by Seamus and Dean leaving the dormitory on their way to breakfast. Actually, Harry had been awake for over an hour, unable to go back to sleep once he'd awoke. He sat up, tossing a present onto Ron's bed. "Happy birthday, Ron," he said. "Have a present."

The present landed on top of a small pile of other presents that Harry assumed must have been delivered by house-elves in the night. He thought he'd sensed their movements earlier, but it had felt like he was in a dream.

Ron had had no trouble sleeping; his usual problem was waking up. "Cheers," he said, sleepily, and started ripping the paper off Harry's present. Meanwhile, Harry got out of bed, opening his own trunk and began rummaging through it for the Marauder's Map. He had pushed it deep into the trunk the last time he'd used it, and he had to pull out half the contents of his trunk before he found it hiding beneath the rolled-up socks where he'd hidden the bottle of Felix Felicis, the lucky potion he'd won during his first Potions class this year.

Harry crawled back into bed with the Map. Neville was walking by at that moment, on his way to breakfast, and nodded at Harry. "Coming to breakfast soon, Harry?" he asked as he passed.

"Right," Harry said, waiting a few moments for Neville to continue on before muttering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," low enough that Neville couldn't hear him.

Across the room, Ron was waving the new pair of Quidditch gloves that were in Harry's present. "Nice one, Harry!" he said enthusiastically.

"No problem," Harry said, absently. Hopefully the gloves would prove as good for Ron's attitude as the Felix Felicis Harry had pretended to give to him during their first match had been. His finger ran slowly along the Slytherin dormitories, looking for Malfoy. "Hey…I don't think Malfoy's in bed…"

But Ron wasn't paying attention to anything but the presents he was unwrapping. Every now and then he let out an exclamation of pleasure. "A seriously good haul this year!" he finally looked up at Harry. He was holding a heavy gold watch with odd symbols around the edge, and tiny moving stars rather than hands. "Mum and Dad got me this," he told Harry. "Blimey, think I'll come of age next year, too!"

Harry gave the watch a perfunctory glance. "Cool," he muttered, before looking back at the Map. He was looking for Malfoy, who wasn't in the Great Hall eating breakfast, or near Snape, who was in his office… He wasn't in any of the bathrooms or in the hospital wing…

"Want a Chocolate Cauldron?" Ron asked, holding out a box of them toward Harry.

"Nope," Harry said. He looked up at Ron. "Malfoy's gone again!"

Ron slid out of his bed, pausing only to pop a second Chocolate Cauldron in his mouth. "Can't have done," he mumbled, chewing on the Cauldron. He began getting dressed. "Come on, if we don't get down to breakfast we'll have to Apparate on an empty stomach. He glanced back at the box on his bed, then shrugged and popped a third Cauldron into his mouth. "Might make it easier, I suppose…"

Harry grimaced at the Map then tapped it with his wand, saying, "Mischief managed," even though it hadn't been. He began getting dressed, thinking hard. How did Malfoy keep managing to disappear off the Map? The easiest way to find out was to tail him under the Invisibility Cloak, but this was impractical given his lessons, Quidditch practice, and his homework — not to mention his worsening condition… He was already under enough scrutiny from Hermione over his health (and probably Snape, whom Harry had decided suspected him) — he didn't need other teachers noticing his absences from their classes. How was that going to work, he pondered, after he — _died_?

Harry was rapidly reaching the end of his rope. He was going to have to talk to someone soon, whether it was Hermione, or… it might be better if he didn't burden her with this but went straight to Dumbledore. He sighed to himself, deciding he would think about it today and talk to Dumbledore tomorrow, if that was the solution he came to. He picked up the contents of his trunk, scattered about the floor, and threw it back inside, including his Invisibility Cloak. After breakfast he'd check on Malfoy again, and if he caught sight of him with Crabbe or Goyle he'd be under it again and off to find them in a flash.

"Ready for breakfast?" he asked Ron, walking toward the door. He was halfway there when he realized that Ron hadn't moved. He was staring out a window with a strangely unfocused look on his face. Harry thought for a moment he was looking at the rain outside, but the look on Ron's face gave Harry pause.

"Ron? Breakfast?" Harry said again. Surely the thought of food would snap Ron out of it!

"I'm not hungry," Ron said, dully. Harry stared at him.

"I thought you just said you wanted —"

"All right," Ron sighed, turning away from the window. "I'll come down with you, but I'm not eating anything."

Harry looked over at Ron's bed, seeing the opened box of Chocolate Cauldrons. "You just ate half a box of candy, didn't you?"

"Not that," Ron sighed again. "You — you wouldn't understand, Harry."

Harry was nonplussed. "Okay, fair enough," he said, finally, and turned toward the door.

"Harry!" Ron called out suddenly, and he stopped.

"What?"

"Harry, I can't stand it!"

"Can't stand what?" Harry was becoming alarmed. Ron was as pale as Harry now; he looked as though he was about to be sick. _What happened to him_, Harry wondered anxiously. _He looks like I feel_ —

A horrible thought came over Harry. Could he have…done something…to Ron without realizing it? He strode over to Ron, turning his head so he could see his neck. No bite marks there, but they might have been healed like Harry's had been. "Do you feel weak, Ron?" he demanded.

Ron shook his head. "No — it's just — I can't stop thinking about her!" he said, hoarsely.

Harry gaped at him, relieved but unnerved. He was on about Lavender again? Harry wasn't sure he wanted to deal with this now. He and Ron might be friends, but he didn't want to hear about any lovesick yearnings Ron might have. And if he started calling her "Lav-Lav" Harry would have to put his foot down — or up Ron's arse, whichever worked better.

"Okay," he said, slowly. "But why would that stop you having breakfast?" he asked, trying to be reasonable.

"I — I don't think she knows I exist," Ron said, sounding positively desperate.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, she knows you exist, all right," he said, bewildered by Ron's comment. "She's been snogging you all this time, hasn't she?"

Ron pulled back from Harry, blinking. "What are you talking about?"

This was becoming curiouser and curiouser. "Who are _you_ talking about?" he asked, beginning to think all common sense had been thrown out of this conversation.

"Romilda Vane," Ron said, his whole face lighting up as he said her name.

Romilda Vane? Harry stared at his friend for a whole minute before asking, "This is a joke, right? You're kidding me, aren't you?"

"I think I love her, Harry," Ron croaked out.

Harry shook his head slightly, to see if he was dreaming. He stepped closer to Ron, examining his pallid complexion and glazed-over eyes. He still couldn't believe this wasn't a joke. "Okay…now, say that again, with a straight face."

"I love her," Ron repeated breathlessly. "Her hair — have you seen it? It's all black and shiny and silky. And her big, dark eyes? And those big —"

"All right," Harry interrupted, certain now that Ron was having him on, and that his paleness was due to some Weasley Skiving Snackbox item. "Joke's over, Ron, all right? Just drop it!"

He turned to leave, but hadn't taken two steps before a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. He staggered, then looked round: Ron was standing there, his face contorted in rage, his fist drawn back to strike again.

Harry reacted without conscious thought, completing his turn and drawing his wand as he did so. He pointed it at Ron and an incantation sprang to mind instinctively: _Levicorpus_! Ron spun into the air, held up by his ankle, his robes dangling around him.

"What was _that_ for?" Harry bellowed angrily. His ear _hurt_!

"You insulted her, Harry!" Ron bellowed back. "You said it was a joke!" His face was slowly turning purple as the blood rushed to his head.

"What's gotten into you?" Harry said, perplexed by Ron's behavior. "Have you gone insane —"

He glanced over at Ron's bed again, seeing the open box of candy there. The truth finally dawned on him.

"Where'd you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?" he asked.

"They were a birthday present!" Ron shouted. "I offered you one, didn't I?"

"You got them off the floor, didn't you?" Harry guessed; correctly, he knew.

"They fell off my bed, all right? Let me go!"

"No they didn't," Harry insisted. "They were in my trunk, you prat! I chucked them out when I was looking for the Map. Those're the Cauldrons Romilda Vane gave me before Christmas — they're all spiked with love potion!"

But Ron had only heard one word Harry had said. "Romilda!" he repeated. "Do you know her, Harry? Can you introduce us?"

A part of Harry — probably his throbbing right ear — wanted to let Ron down and watch as he ran off to find Romilda and declare his undying love for her. But... the rest of him remembered that he and Ron were friends, and that he'd probably deserve another smack in the ear if he did that. Thinking fast, Harry decided what he must do.

"Yeah, I'll introduce you," he told Ron. "I'm going to let you down now, okay?"

He canceled the spell and Ron crashed to the floor, but Ron just jumped to his feet, grinning broadly at Harry. "Let's go," he insisted brightly.

"She'll be in Professor Slughorn's office," Harry said, leading Ron to the door.

"Why would she be there?" Ron asked, hurrying to follow Harry.

"She's got extra Potions lessons with him," Harry replied. It was all a lie, of course, but it wouldn't matter once he got Ron to Slughorn's office.

"Maybe I could ask if I could take them with her?" Ron suggested eagerly.

Now Harry knew it was a love potion. Ron asking for more schoolwork? "Great idea," Harry said, straight-faced.

As they came into the common room, Harry found an unexpected complication: Lavender was standing in front of the portrait hole, waiting for Ron. "You're late, Won-Won," she pouted. "I've got you a birthday —"

Ron pushed rudely past her. "Leave me alone," he said. "Harry's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane," he added impatiently.

Lavender's shocked expression was so comical Harry almost laughed. He tried to make himself look apologetically at her, but evidently failed, because her expression turned furious as the Fat Lady swung shut behind them.

They made their way to Slughorn's office. Harry was concerned that the Potions professor might be at breakfast, but he answered his door on the first knock. "Harry," he mumbled sleepily. "This is very early for a call, my boy… I generally sleep later on a Saturday."

"Professor, I'm really sorry, I hate to disturb you," Harry said, holding Ron, who was trying to see past Slughorn into his office. "My friend Ron accidentally swallowed a love potion by mistake. Can you make him an antidote? I'd take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we're not supposed to have anything from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, you know, and there might be awkward questions…"

Slughorn smiled genially despite his sleepiness. "I'd have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, Harry — an expert potioneer like you!"

"Er — well," Harry was distracted by Ron's attempts to push past him, into Slughorn's office. "I never mixed an antidote for a love potion, and Ron might've done something serious by the time I got it right."

"I can't see her, Harry," Ron suddenly blurted. "Is he hiding her?"

Slughorn studied Ron with a professional eye. "Was the potion within date?" he asked. "They can become stronger the longer they're kept, you know."

That would explain a lot, sir," Harry said, struggling to keep Ron from knocking them both down in his eagerness to get into Slughorn's office. "Sir, it's his birthday," he added, imploringly.

Slughorn sighed and stepped back. "Oh, all right, come in, then," he said. "I've got the necessaries here in my bag, it's not a difficult antidote."

Ron lurched forward into Slughorn's dimly-lit study, tripping over a tasseled footstool. He kept his balance by grabbing Harry around the neck, then muttered, "She didn't see that, did she?"

Harry looked around the room, pretending to search for Romilda. He saw with relief that the window shutters were tightly closed. That meant he would stay out of direct sunlight. "She's not here yet," he told Ron, watching Slughorn preparing the antidote from his potion kit.

"Good," Ron said, relieved. "How do I look?"

"Very handsome," Slughorn said smoothly, handing Ron the vial he'd been preparing. "This is a tonic, for your nerves — keeps you calm when she arrives, you know. Drink up."

Ron took the potion eagerly. "Brilliant," he said, and noisily gulped it down, grinning at Harry and Slughorn. Very slowly, his grin sagged, replaced by a look of utmost horror.

Harry was grinning now. "Back to normal, then?" he asked. Slughorn chuckled. Ron looked at them helplessly.

"Thanks a lot, Professor," Harry said, as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair, still looking horrified.

"Don't mention it, m'boy," Slughorn said, looking at Ron sitting in the armchair, holding his head in his hands and shaking it. He looked back at Harry. "A pick-me-up, that's what he needs," Slughorn decided. He bustled over to a table nearly overloaded with drinks. "Let's see… I've go butterbeer, I've got wine, I've got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead… hmm, meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas. Ah well…" he shrugged. "The old boy can't miss what he never had, can he? We can open it now and celebrate Mr. Weasley's birthday, shall we?" He smiled broadly at the two Gryffindors. "Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love…"

Slughorn gestured with his wand and three glasses suddenly flew from the next room over, landing on a small table near where the Potions teacher was standing. As he unstoppered the bottle of mead, Slughorn spoke softly to Harry. "Are you sure you didn't have some of that potion as well, Harry? You look as pale as your friend Ralph here…"

"No, sir," Harry shook his head. "None at all…" Privately he was chagrinned; he'd forgotten to take his daily potion before leaving his room! He probably did look as bad as Ron… "I've just had quite a time getting my friend _Ron_ here, before he ran off and did something stupid…"

Slughorn chortled amusement, and Harry joined him, thinking this was the first time he'd found himself almost alone with the Potions Master since that disastrous attempt in January. Perhaps if he could keep Slughorn in a good mood… perhaps if he had enough of that oak-matured mead… Harry might coax the true Horcrux memory out of him…

Slughorn had poured three glasses of the mead. He handed one each to Harry and Ron. "There you are, then," he said, lifting his own glass. "A very happy birthday to you, Ralph —"

Harry winced. "Ron," he whispered. Ron had been right, Slughorn _didn't_ remember his name…!

But Ron, wallowing in his own grief, or embarrassment, hadn't been listening. He'd thrown back the glass as soon as it was handed to him, swallowing it.

Harry, who was watching Slughorn to see how much he would drink, suddenly felt that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Ron's hand had gone to his throat —

"Ron!" Harry said again, much more loudly, staring at his friend.

"— and may you have many more," Slughorn went blithely on, ignoring what Harry had said. He seemed not to notice what Ron was doing —

Ron's empty glass fell to the floor. He rose halfway to his feet then collapsed, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was coming out of his mouth and his eyes were bulging.

"Professor!" Harry shouted, pointing at Ron. "_Do_ something!"

But Slughorn was looking at Ron in shock, seemingly paralyzed by the sight of one of his students twitching on the floor. His skin was going from a pallid white to a blue tinge. That couldn't be good, Harry knew. He sprinted for Slughorn's potions kit, hoping what he was looking for was still in there.

As Slughorn watched, openedmouthed, Harry began throwing things from the kit — jars, bottles, pouches and vials, as Ron's ragged breaths seemed to fill the room and Harry's ears. Then his hand closed on the shriveled, kidney-like stone he'd been looking for — the bezoar Slughorn had taken from him — and leapt back toward Ron.

Yanking Ron's jaw open, Harry forced the bezoar into his mouth and clamped it shut, forcing him to swallow. Ron shuddered, gasped, then became limp and still. For a terrifying moment Harry thought he was too late, but Ron began to breath, slowly and very shallow. He was still alive, but only just.

"We've got to get Ron to the hospital wing!" Harry yelled at Slughorn, who finally snapped out of his shocked silence.

"Of course — of course!" Slughorn stammered. "Bring him over to my fireplace.

Harry drew his wand, muttering "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" Ron lifted slowly into the air and began floating into the next room, toward Slughorn's hearth. At the same moment, however, Slughorn had drawn his own wand and pointed it toward the shuttered windows. The shutters flew open, bathing the room in morning sunlight.

Harry stumbled, falling to his knees, and Ron's still form thumped to the ground. "Harry!" Slughorn cried, alarmed by his sudden weakness. "Are you alright? Did you drink any of the mead?"

"N-no," Harry gasped, trying to stand up. "I'm — I'm o-okay," he muttered, not wanting Slughorn to see his weakness.

"No, you're not," Slughorn disagreed. He waved his wand at Ron, who floated into the air once again, then put an arm around Harry. "Let's go, boys," he said, and gestured toward a pot on the mantle of his fireplace. A small amount of powder flew from it into the fire, which flared up with emerald green flames. "Hospital wing!" he said loudly, stepping into the flames with Harry and Ron, and a few moments later they landed on the hearth in Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Good gracious!" the nurse exclaimed, as Slughorn moved quickly toward her, both Harry and Ron in tow. "What's happened?"

"Poison," the Potion Master immediately replied, pointing to Ron. "Mr. Weasley. Harry here gave him a bezoar, but he should be checked, just in case."

Pomfrey was looking at Harry, hanging off Slughorn's arm. "And what's wrong with Mr. Potter? Poisoned as well?"

"No," Slughorn shook his head. "He collapsed when — when he tried to levitate Mr. Weasley. Both of them may have ingested a love potion. They both exhibited paleness and obsessive behavior, but only Mr. Weasley seemed to need an antidote. Young Harry may have been able to resist most of the obsessive effects associated with such potions. "

"Where'd the love potion come from?" Pomfrey asked, suspiciously.

"I'm sure I don't know, Poppy," Slughorn answered, blustering a bit. "But that's hardly relevant at the moment, don't you think? These boys need help!"

Pomfrey nodded, acquiescing, and Harry felt himself lifted by a Levitation Charm before everything around him went black…


	5. Made Men

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Five  
>"<strong>Made Men"<strong>

Updated November 11, 2011

Images were flashing through Harry's mind, bombarding him with memories of his life. He was sitting on his mother's lap, laughing at a toy dangling from his father's wand. He was staring at a tall, pale man pointing a similar stick at him, a stick that flashed green. He was lying on the floor of a dusty cupboard, watching as spiders crawled about on the walls and ceiling above him. He was running across a school yard, pursued by a gang of boys led by his cousin Dudley when suddenly he found himself on the roof of the school, with no memory of how he'd gotten there. He was standing quietly before his aunt Petunia as she berated him because his hair had regrown overnight, after she cut it short. He watched as a boa constrictor crawled through an open window, hissing, "_Adios, amigo_," as it slithered away. He was lying on the floor of a drafty old hut as its door fell inward, landing on the floor with a resounding crash and an alarmingly large man, a giant, filled the doorway. He was riding at breakneck speed under the streets of London in a small cart as the giant sitting next to him whimpered in nauseated discomfort. He was sitting on a stool in front of a group of children with a patched, grubby-looking hat on his head, arguing with the hat over which House he should be placed in.

The images began flashing faster and faster. He pressed his hands against the face of a turbaned man, who screamed in agony; he was in the front seat of a flying car, watching openmouthed as it slammed into the branches of a tree; he was bowing to a large creature that was half-horse and half-bird, his eyes never leaving it until it bowed back; he was shouting at a multitude of black-robed creatures circling above him as he conjured a creature of shining silvery-white that chased them all away; he was staring into the eyes of Albus Dumbledore, who was holding a charred piece of parchment with Harry's name on it, staring unsmilingly at him. He was on his broomstick, flying around and around a dragon, trying to snatch a golden egg held between its legs; he was swimming deeper and deeper underwater, breathing through gills in his throat; he was running next to Cedric Diggory toward the Triwizard Tournament trophy; he watched as Cedric was hit with the Killing Curse; he was standing before Cornelius Fudge in Courtroom Ten; he was watching as his godfather Sirius Black fell through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.

Harry moaned, waving his arms as he tried to dispel the images surrounding him. They suddenly faded away, leaving him in utter blackness. Harry stared around himself in confusion — where did his memories go? He ran through the inky darkness, looking for — for what, he wasn't quite sure. Where were his friends, the people he knew and cared for? Hermione — Ron — Ginny? What had happened to them?

Harry's eyes opened. He was staring upward at a ceiling he had come to know quite well in the past five years — the infirmary ward. He closed his eyes again, remembering.

He and Ron had awakened on Ron's birthday, and Harry had turned out his trunk looking for the Marauder's Map so he could locate Draco Malfoy. There had been a box of Chocolate Cauldrons in his trunk, and Ron had thought the box was one of his presents. But the cauldrons had been spiked with a love potion by Romilda Vane, and Ron had fallen under its spell.

Harry brought Ron to Professor Slughorn, hoping he would have an antidote for the potion. The Potions Master fixed Ron up, but when they celebrated Ron's birthday with glasses of oak-matured mead, Ron had gasped and fallen to the floor. Only Harry's quick thinking, finding a bezoar in Slughorn's potion kit, had kept Ron from dying then and there. But when Harry Levitated Ron towards the Potions Master's fireplace, Slughorn had opened his window shutters, flooding his study with morning sunlight and weakening Harry to the point of collapse. After that, the images became blurred, indistinct. He remembered snatches of lying in the infirmary bed, tossing and turning as the memories of his life flooded through his mind. A few times he opened his eyes, seeing Ron in the bed next to him, with Fred, George and Ginny standing around him. They seemed to notice he was awake, but Harry was unable to stay conscious long enough to talk to them. Where was Hermione, Harry wondered. Was she still so mad at Ron that she wouldn't even come see him in the hospital ward? Was she mad at _him_, for that matter?

Harry tried to sit up, but he was still too weak to move. He rolled his head to the right, where he saw an empty infirmary bed; this was where he had last seen Ron, he remembered. Had Ron gotten out of the infirmary before Harry? He managed to roll his head to the left. None of the infirmary beds he could see were occupied. The room was dimly lit, which Harry thought was good; at least he wouldn't be weakened by sunlight pouring into the room. He took a deep breath, pondering what he should do next.

An indescribable smell filled his nostrils — he had never smelled anything so good before! At the same moment there was a tiny sob from near his feet, and Harry managed to raise his head enough to see who had made it.

Hermione was sitting on the foot of his bed. So she _had_ come to see him! Harry managed a smile, grateful that at least one of his best friends was here.

"Hermione," he whispered, and she started and turned toward him.

"Harry, you're awake!" she said, jumping up to move closer to him on the bed. "I've been waiting for you to wake up! How do you feel?" She leaned close to him, looking anxiously into his eyes. Her own eyes were red and puffy; she'd been crying for some time, Harry realized. He also realized, horrified, that _she_ was the source of the delectable aroma he'd smelled. He had smelled her blood.

Harry tried to draw away from her. He could sense the life-giving fluid pulsing through her arteries and veins, smell the tantalizing flavor of the sweet, red fluid that moved throughout her body. His own body craved it, demanding that he draw it from her into himself, so he could live. As weak as he was, he could easily overpower her, he knew. But he fought the hunger, fought the demands of his vampire-infected body as he tried to answer her. "I'm — I'm…"

She had noticed him pull away from her. "Harry, what's wrong," she asked, concerned. "Do you need Madam Pomfrey?" She looked toward the nurse's office, but Harry weakly waved Hermione off from calling her.

"I'm okay," he finally croaked out. "Where's Ron?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and she looked away from him. The gesture chilled Harry to the bone. "No…" he whispered, stricken at the idea.

"I'm — I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione finally said, in a small, broken voice. "Ron is — dead."

"No!" Harry said loudly, sitting up by pure strength of will. Everything else was forgotten, even his growing hunger for blood. "I got the bezoar in him, Hermione! He was still alive when we got to the infirmary! What happened?"

Hermione was now sobbing into her hands. "They — they won't tell anyone beyond the family what happened, Harry. I don't — don't know what happened."

"What have you heard?" Harry demanded, frantic for some reason why Ron had to die. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "_Tell_ me, Hermione!"

She flinched away from him. "Harry, you're hurting me!" she cried, rubbing one of her shoulders.

Harry pulled his hands away from her. "Sorry, sorry," he said, more calmly than he felt. "It just doesn't make any sense, Hermione!"

Hermione slumped forward. "I know," she agreed. "The only thing I've heard…" she trailed off, looking at him anxiously.

"Go on!" Harry urged her. "What is it?"

Hermione gulped down her tears and spoke haltingly. "Someone said that Professor Slughorn thought that the bezoar you gave Ron had lost some of its efficacy — it couldn't handle all the poison in his system. He said most of the bezoars in the Potions stores cabinet were still — still potent; he said that if you'd gotten one of those Ron would still be alive."

Harry sat stock-still as he digested that statement. "So, it's _my_ fault Ron is dead, then," he muttered, with self-loathing.

"No no _no_!" Hermione told him, gripping his shoulders in turn. "Harry, it's nobody's fault!"

Harry stared at her through narrowed eyes. "Where did the poison in the mead come from?" he asked, tightly.

"Nobody knows," Hermione answered, sniffling a bit more. "Professor Slughorn said he'd intended to give the mead to Professor Dumbledore —"

"He mentioned that when we were in his study," Harry confirmed.

"— but he has no idea who might have put the poison in it," Hermione continued.

"I have an idea," Harry said, grimly. "Malfoy." Malfoy had been acting suspiciously all year, ever since they followed him into Knockturn Alley, to Borgin and Burkes. From what he'd heard Malfoy say, both there and during his conversation with Snape before Christmas, Harry was virtually certain Malfoy was a Death Eater, and that the near misses Dumbledore had experienced, including his withered hand, were Malfoy's doing.

But Hermione shook her head wearily. "There's no evidence Malfoy could have gotten hold of the mead, Harry. The bottle was delivered to Slughorn from Three Broomsticks — Mr. Filch inspected it for tampering himself."

Harry leaned over, cradling his head in his hands. The news of Ron's death was finally sinking in, and it was painful beyond belief. Hermione put a consoling arm around him, and they sat that way for several moments, until —

"Miss Granger!" Both Harry and Hermione jumped at the sound of another voice. Madam Pomfrey was hurrying from her office into the infirmary, fastening a housecoat about her. "What are you doing in here? You should be in bed at this hour!" Pomfrey reached down and actually lifted Hermione from the bed.

"It's okay," Harry said quickly — Hermione looked both surprised and intimidated by the nurse's actions. "I don't mind the company, really."

"You need your rest, Mr. Potter!" Pomfrey wagged a finger at him insistently. "You've been unconscious for two days now!"

"Two _days_!" Harry exclaimed. He looked toward Hermione for confirmation, who nodded. "When — when did Ron…" He could barely make himself say it — "When did Ron die?"

Madam Pomfrey's expression was profoundly sad. "It…was…Saturday evening," she said, softly. "Professor Dumbledore h-held a memorial for him on Sunday afternoon."

This was almost more than Harry could bear. His best friend was — dead — and he hadn't been able to attend his memorial service! "C-can I see his body?" he asked, feeling a great weight pressing on his chest.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head apologetically, but Hermione answered first. "His parents t-took him back to the Burrow, Harry. He was buried yesterday in the graveyard in Ottery St. Catchpole."

Harry slumped, defeated. "I wish…" But he couldn't say what he was thinking — that, if he'd known Ron was going to die, he might have done something to keep him alive. He might have taken his blood and made him a vampire, just as von Necros had made _him_ a vampire. Or a soon-to-be vampire.

But that was madness, Harry realized. Ron would be horrified, just as Harry was, at the thought of being undead. Even more so, he knew; Ron hated vampires, he'd told Harry so, years ago. He hated them almost as much as he hated spiders.

Hermione and Madam Pomfrey were watching him, waiting for him to continue. "What do you wish, Harry?" Hermione asked, softly.

Harry looked her, shaking his head. "Nothing," he said. "I just wish I could have seen Ron once more, before — before…"

"You should rest," Pomfrey said, putting a hand on his shoulder and laying him back on the bed. "I will inform Professor Dumbledore that you've awakened. Come, Miss Granger." The nurse escorted Hermione to the infirmary entrance. At the door, Hermione looked back at Harry, a deep sadness in her eyes, before hurrying away. Harry thought he heard a muffled sob as she disappeared. Madam Pomfrey watched her leave, then went back into her office.

After a few minutes, Harry tried to sit up again, but he was still too weak. He stared up at the ceiling of the infirmary ward, wondering whether he would ever be able to move about again, as weak as he was. Perhaps that was for the best, he thought; if anyone other than Hermione had been in the room when his bloodlust asserted itself, he might have attacked them. That was not something Harry wanted to have happen, no matter how important Voldemort's defeat was, no matter how imperative it was that he become a vampire to do so. That decision had been taken out of his hands anyway, by the vampire von Necros. Exhausted, with a hunger for blood gnawing at the back of his mind, Harry fell asleep.

=ooo=

"_Harry_."

Harry's eyes snapped open. It was still dark in the infirmary; Harry had no idea how long he had been asleep. The voice he'd heard had echoed through his mind, drawing him irresistibly toward it.

"_Come to the infirmary door_. _Open it_."

Despite his fatigue and weakness, Harry sat up in his bed, setting his feet on the floor. He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling, but with enough energy in him to walk slowly to the infirmary's entrance. He grasped the door handle but it was locked.

"_Use your wand, unlock the door_."

Harry slowly drew his wand, pointing it at the handle. _Alohomora_, he thought , invoking the spell, but the door didn't unlock. He repeated the spell aloud, and heard a _click_; it had worked that time. Harry pushed opened the door.

A stench assailed his nostrils and eyes, forcing him to step back in disgust. What was that smell? As much as the smell of Hermione's blood had attracted him earlier, this smell repelled him. On the outside of the door, several bags were hung from it—this was where the repulsive odor was coming from.

"_Remove the garlic from the door and throw it away_." _Why was there garlic on the infirmary door_, Harry wondered. He reached up, nearly gagging at the stench as he pulled the bags from the door. He dropped them to the floor, then pointed his wand at them and said, "_Depulso_!" The Banishing Charm threw the bags down the darkened corridor, though Harry could still see them clearly. His vision was much better now than before; he wasn't even wearing his glasses.

"_Return to your bed and wait for me, I will join you shortly_." Harry nodded, turned and walked back to his bed, then sat down. As he did he saw a tall, thin figure coming from Madam Pomfrey's office. It was Baron von Necros.

Von Necros strode over to where Harry was sitting and sat down on the bed next to him, the bed Ron had been in, Harry remembered. "I made sure the nurse will remain asleep while we talk, Harry." Von Necros was staring intently into Harry's eyes, touching his face with his palm. Harry felt oddly stimulated by his touch, yet the vampire seemed to be merely checking his condition rather than making intimate contact. "How do you feel?"

"What did you do to me, just now?" Harry demanded. "It felt like an Imperius Curse, but I couldn't seem to resist it. I've resisted the Imperius Curse before."

"We can command those whose blood we've drank," von Necros replied. "I would not have done it, Harry, but you could approach the garlic more easily than I."

"Why was the garlic even there?" Harry asked. "I thought you kept Madam Pomfrey from sending that note about my vampirism to Professor Dumbledore."

"I do not know," von Necros answered. "Evidently someone suspects it, despite my precautions. It kept me from entering the room."

Harry almost smirked, as tired as he felt. "Garlic doesn't seems like something vampires should be afraid of," he said amused at the idea, though the garlic had still repulsed him, even more so than when he was normal.

"Garlic has magical properties," von Necros explained. "It is a powerful blood medicant, which is why it repels vampires, who in essence infect the blood of their victims."

"Can it cure vampirism?" Harry asked hopefully, though the chances of it doing so seemed remote.

Von Necros was silent for a moment. "It is possible to brew a potion, using garlic, that will stave off the effects of vampirism for a while; you have been taking such a potion yourself for some time now. But the change from human to vampire can only be slowed, not halted or reversed." Harry slumped in despair. There was still no way out of this, it seemed.

"How do you feel, Harry?" von Necros asked again.

"Tired," Harry said, in a weak voice, but roused himself; there was something important to him he wanted to tell the vampire. "Ron is dead," he ground out, hating to say the words aloud. "He drank poison meant for Dumbledore."

"I know," von Necros nodded, still examining him. "I had word of it Saturday evening, when I awoke."

Harry frowned. "How —"

"I know what you know, Harry," von Necros interrupted him. "You were lying right next to him, up until the time he died. I saw everything you did. Madam Pomfrey and Snape made every effort to save him, but the poison in his system was too strong."

Snape? Harry could hardly believe it. "Snape wouldn't have lifted a finger to save Ron," he growled. "He despised Ron almost as much as he hated me!"

"Snape is a complex man," von Necros admitted, but his tone was cautionary. "You do him a disservice, however, in believing him to be your enemy. His loyalty to Dumbledore and your cause is absolute."

"Dumbledore says that, too," Harry agreed, resentfully. "I just don't see it, though." His strength failed momentarily and Harry slumped forward, then rallied a bit and looked up at von Necros once again. "I think… he has Dumbledore fooled — and you too, if you believe he's one hundred percent on our side."

"We must agree to disagree on that point," von Necros said flatly. "However, I did not come here to argue Snape's loyalties with you — I came to see how _you_ are doing. From what I've seen so far, things are not going well for you."

"You mean, other than my best friend's _dead_ and I'm about to become a vampire?" Harry said, sarcastically. "I've puzzled that much out for myself, funnily enough."

"It's more serious than you think," von Necros said, gravely. "You may not survive the day, as weak as you are, without nourishment." He held of a vial filled with a silvery-blue liquid. "I've brought something that will help you."

But Harry had recognized the contents of the vial. "I can't drink that!" he exclaimed, trying to push it away from himself, though von Necros' hand remained steady. "That' s unicorn blood! Anyone who drinks that is cursed forever!" Wasn't it bad enough he was going to die and become an undead vampire — did von Necros have to compound his misery by _cursing_ him as well?

"It will not curse you, Harry," von Necros insisted. "Surely you remember that only those who _slay_ unicorns are cursed. Other parts of unicorns are used in potions, like the horn and the tail hairs. They can be removed without killing the unicorn, and they regrow after time. The blood will sustain you as well, and if willingly given you will not be cursed."

"You got a unicorn to give you its _blood_?" Harry asked, disbelievingly. He half-remembered a lesson from Professor Grubbly-Plank, who'd taught Care of Magical Creatures when Hagrid wasn't available; she'd said unicorns preferred a woman's touch.

"Not directly," von Necros admitted. "I…asked someone to procure it for me. Now, please drink it." He held out the vial to Harry once again.

Harry took the vial, staring at it suspiciously. "Who got this for you?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer. He hoped it wasn't someone he knew, like Hermione, or Ginny…

"It was the young woman who was with you when you met Sanguini, the night of Slughorn's party," von Necros told him. "Luna Lovegood."

Harry and von Necros stared at each other for some time. "You — you didn't hurt her, did you?" Harry finally blurted out. Using Luna that way was almost as bad as Hermione or Ginny — he wanted none of them involved in this travesty of his life. "Luna doesn't deserve to be used for my benefit. I don't want you forcing her to do things against her will! Or my friends Hermione or Ginny, for that matter!"

"I did not mesmerize or compel Miss Lovegood in any way," von Necros declared, dispassionately. "I merely appeared to her, asking her to do this for me — and for you. Unicorns can sense the intent of those who approach them; it would have known if she was being compelled to ask it for blood. The blood was freely asked for and freely given. Now, please, Harry…"

Still only half-convinced, Harry removed the stopper from the vial. The aroma of the unicorn reached his nose immediately — it was more intoxicating than even Hermione's blood had been. He felt better just inhaling its tantalizing fragrance. He put the vial to his lips, staring at von Necros for a long moment before tipping its contents into his mouth.

A rush of pleasure suffused him, spreading outward as the blood passed down his throat and into his stomach. It was like the rush he got eating chocolate, but a hundred times more powerful. Harry felt strength and vitality flooding into his arms, his legs; within moments his weakness had dissipated, replaced by renewed alertness and clarity. The infirmary, which been quite dim when he'd first awakened, now looked normal to his eyes, as if he could see in near-total darkness. His hearing had increased as well; he could hear his own heart beating quite loudly, as well as a softer beat nearby.

"I can hear our hearts beating," Harry whispered. He voice was quite loud in his own ears.

"My heart does not beat," von Necros told him, speaking softly so as not to assault Harry's newly augmented senses. "You are hearing Madam Pomfrey's heart."

Harry could more than hear it — he sensed the blood flowing through her; red, delicious blood, his body was beginning to crave it. It both horrified him and filled his mind with desire. The desire to kill…

Harry looked at the empty vial in his hand, then at von Necros. "Did — did you make me a vampire?" he asked, dreading the answer. What else could he be, with this mad desire to drink blood filling his thoughts.

Von Necros shook his head. "No, though had I given you the blood of any other creature, Harry, you would have died before nightfall. The unicorn blood will sustain you and keep you alive for a while longer, until you can be properly Made."

"And how long will that be?" Harry wanted to know, though he still detested the thought of being a vampire.

"Tonight," the vampire answered, and Harry stiffened at how soon his life would come to an end.

"Why tonight?" Harry asked, hoping to put off the inevitable a while longer. "Why can't I continue to take unicorn blood?"

"The unicorn blood accelerates your transformation into a vampire," von Necros explained. "Without continued doses of it, you will die more rapidly than before. Luna was only able to acquire a small amount of blood, some of which you just drank. Tonight, you will complete your journey to become a full vampire."

Harry shook his head. "How — how will it be done?" he asked, his thoughts awhirl with despair, anger, and self-pity.

"I will explain when the time comes," von Necros promised. "Until then, it is best if you remain here, in the infirmary, until I return." The vampire placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, to make him lie back, but Harry put a hand over von Necros', stopping him.

"Listen," he said. "I don't want you involving any more of the people around me in this. Ron's dead — I don't want anything happening to anyone else. Is that understood? Not to Luna, not to Hermione. No one." His tone was hard, his gaze ice cold and adamant.

Von Necros returned his gaze with eyes of chipped obsidian. "Harry, you are hardly in a position to give me orders. If I don't help you, you will die, _permanently_ — and Voldemort will triumph."

"Don't lie to me," Harry snapped at him. "You said I would turn into a vampire when I died!"

"You will — but you will be but a fledgling vampire, barely able to free yourself from your coffin when you awaken. Without me, you will require decades, perhaps centuries, to mature to the level required to defeat Voldemort. If he consolidates his power over Wizarding Britain, you may _never_ become strong enough to vanquish him.

"But if I help you, Harry, you will become like me — one of the most powerful vampires that has ever existed, even newly-Made," von Necros finished.

"But — _why_?" It made no sense to Harry. "You've already said it takes vampires decades before they become as powerful as you."

"More like centuries," von Necros said. "I will explain more fully tonight. For now, however —" he laid Harry back on the bed, gazing steadily into his eyes. "_Sleep, Harry Potter. Sleep and let the unicorn blood strengthen and refresh you_."

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. Within moments he was once again asleep.

=ooo=

"Harry."

It was the second time today someone had awakened him — Harry was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to get enough sleep to recover from his weariness. He groaned inwardly, still feeling fatigue weighing him down. Why had he felt so _good_ when he went to sleep? There was a pounding in his ears that was annoying him, keeping him from drifting back to sleep. It had seemed like only moments ago when he last closed his eyes. Now, even before he opened them, he sensed a presence close to him, sitting on his bed. Did von Necros forget to tell him something?

"Is that you, v-von…" he muttered, until he realized that the pounding that he'd heard was the sound of a human heartbeat, very close. Harry opened his eyes, staring up into the eyes of Professor Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore smiled at him. He gave no sign of noticing that Harry had almost called him by another name, but Harry was leery of making that assumption. Dumbledore noticed things that escaped most wizards. "Madam Pomfrey informed me this morning that you had regained consciousness last night. Since you were asleep this morning, I decided to wait for you to awaken before coming to visit you. How are you feeling?"

Harry sat up slowly. He felt weak once again, but not nearly as much as he had the night before. Von Necros may have been right — he must have been at death's door. Now, his senses seemed much sharper than they'd been before he'd drank the unicorn blood. He could clearly hear the slow, steady beating of Dumbledore's heart, as well as Madam Pomfrey's in the next room, slightly faster than the Headmaster's. Though it appeared dark outside, judging from the dim light coming through the infirmary's shuttered windows, Harry could see everything in the room quite clearly.

"I feel — fine, sir," Harry answered, distracted by the sights and sounds that were filling his senses, as well as the smell — the smell of blood. Dumbledore's blood. He tried to ignore the tantalizing aroma.

Dumbledore was gazing at him, a somber expression on his ancient features. "I am very sorry you were unable to be at Ronald Weasley's memorial service — it was widely attended. You made a heroic effort to save him, Harry."

"Not enough of one, sir," Harry said, hanging his head sorrowfully. "I wish I had known that bezoars could become less effective over time."

"You should not trouble yourself over that, Harry," Dumbledore told him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Harry could sense the blood coursing along its arteries and veins, so temptingly close. He need only grab the old man's wrist and sink his teeth into it… He deliberately turned his head away, trying to ignore the desire welling up within him. "Are you quite sure you're alright?" the headmaster asked him again.

"It's hard not to feel responsible for Ron's death, sir," Harry said, covering the real reason for his discomfort. "Professor Slughorn thinks I'm a Potions prodigy."

"Do you not agree with his assessment?" Dumbledore asked. "Horace has been very complimentary of your abilities in his classroom."

There was no use hiding anything from Dumbledore — not now, when his life was about to change irrevocably, very soon. "It's — it's not me, it's a book I found." He looked back at Dumbledore. "I found it in Professor Slughorn's class, in a cabinet — it's a copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_ that was owned by someone called the 'Half-Blood Prince.'"

"I see," the Headmaster said, thoughtfully. "Have you determined who this 'Prince' was?"

"No," Harry said. "Hermione searched the Library for clues, but she came up empty."

Dumbledore nodded, still thoughtful. "And does Miss Granger know of this book of yours?"

"Oh yes," Harry still remembered how vehement her reaction to it was. "She thought I should have handed it in straightaway."

"Why didn't you?" Harry blinked; it was a blunter question than he'd expected Dumbledore to ask.

"I — er — um…" What had it been? Curiosity? Perhaps at first, but after making a perfect Draught of Living Death during his first class and thereby winning the bottle of Felix Felicis from Slughorn, Harry had recognized the possibilities the Prince's notes might afford him. After all, both he and Ron had gotten copies of the book from Slughorn; it was only…_luck_…that he'd gotten the Prince's book and not Ron.

And now Ron was dead, and he was alive. Lucky him.

He still hadn't answered Dumbledore's question. "I don't know why, sir," he finally stammered. "I suppose I didn't see any harm."

"I see," the Headmaster said again. "In fact, neither do I, Harry, as long as you are careful what you learn from the book.

"Now, on to more important matters," Dumbledore said, suddenly brisk. "How goes your homework assignment?"

Harry was confused for several moments, until he remembered what Dumbledore was referring to. "No luck, sir — I haven't been able to get Professor Slughorn to give me the memory."

The Headmaster gave him a vaguely disappointed look, but spoke bracingly. "Not to worry, Harry. I have every confidence you will succeed. That memory is crucial to our understanding of what Voldemort's plans are."

"It might help," Harry said, diffidently, "if I knew what that 'Horcrux' he spoke of was. Sir."

Dumbledore ran his fingers along his beard thoughtfully. "It might, Harry, it might — but I suspect all your questions will be answered by that memory. It is therefore in your best interest, as well as mine, that you recover it from Slughorn."

Frustrated, Harry could only shrug noncommittally, to hide his annoyance. It was probably moot anyway — if von Necros came tonight, this would be his last day as a living being. After that, whatever plans Dumbledore had for that memory would probably not matter to Harry — he would be fighting Voldemort on a new front, the undead front.

"In the meantime," Dumbledore was saying as he stood. "I have something in my office to show you, Harry." He gestured to the infirmary door.

Harry panicked a bit. "Um, shouldn't I stay here, sir?" he asked, nervous about leaving; what would happen if von Necros showed up and he wasn't here? "I don't know if Madam Pomfrey has released me…"

"I have her permission to borrow you for a bit," Dumbledore smiled. "Don't worry — it won't take long, and I'll have you back here in time for bed."

Harry nodded, not seeing any way to avoid accompanying the Headmaster other than flat refusal, and that would make Dumbledore suspicious. He stood, wobbling slightly; the strength he had felt yesterday was almost gone. He had to be sure he would make it back to the infirmary tonight, so von Necros would be able to finish what he'd begun.

Dumbledore led the way from the infirmary, moving slowly enough that Harry had no difficulty following, tired as he was. What did Dumbledore want to show him enough to take him from the hospital wing? Harry theorized it might be a new memory, one he had just procured. If so, Harry hoped it was worth the trip to his office.

He stopped once along the way, nearly exhausted, and Dumbledore quickly conjured a chair for him to rest. "Don't worry, Harry," the Headmaster said, laying a hand once again on his shoulder. "The surprise will still be there, no matter how long we take to reach my office. When you feel rested enough, we will continue."

After a while Harry stood, and they continued to the corridor with the stone gargoyle in it. "Toffee eclairs," Dumbledore said, and the gargoyle leapt aside. They mounted the moving stairway to the large, polished oaken door of the headmaster's office. Dumbledore tapped the handle with his wand and the door swung open.

Two high-backed, winged chairs were placed in front of the Headmaster's desk, but Harry did not see the Pensieve; it must still be in its cabinet. Dumbledore gestured to one of the chairs and Harry sat down, wondering why there was a second chair there as well. He could not have been more surprised when a tall, pale man suddenly leaned forward in the chair and said, "Hello again, Harry."

Harry jerked, almost as violently as he had when Luna had found him eavesdropping on Snape and Malfoy. "Von Necros!" he exclaimed, then covered his mouth in horror as he realized Dumbledore would know he knew who this was."

But Dumbledore was settling himself quietly in the large, comfortable chair behind his desk. Von Necros turned to him. "Good evening, Headmaster."

"Good evening, Baron," Dumbledore responded politely. "You have already made Harry's acquaintance, I presume."

"As you already know," von Necros corrected, blandly. "I admit, I underestimated the lengths you would undertake to stop Voldemort."

"Yet it must be done," Dumbledore replied, seriously. "The fate of Wizarding Britain, and the world, depends on it."

"I agree," von Necros said. "But you might have been less manipulative about it, Albus." Dumbledore sat back in his desk chair, silently regarding the vampire.

Harry was following this conversation with growing understanding and anger. "Wait a minute," he growled, glaring at Dumbledore. "You _knew_ what he was going to do to me? And you let it happen?"

"I knew only after the fact, Harry," Dumbledore replied calmly.

"He could not have stopped me, Harry," von Necros added.

"But you _knew_!" Harry shouted, leaping to his feet, his weakness forgotten. He leaned over Dumbledore's desk, directly into the old man's face. "You could have told me I was infected! But you didn't! You let this — this _curse_ KILL me! WHY?"

There was pain in Dumbledore's face, but Harry didn't care. How DARE they _ruin_ his life without his agreement? Harry stood stiffly, glowering at both Dumbledore and the vampire. "I'm waiting for an explanation," he said, his voice taut with fury. He felt like tearing out Dumbledore's throat right then and there, sucking out his rich, warm blood — _that_ would show him what it was like to let someone become a vampire!

Dumbledore's face was lowered, both of his hands were on his desk, his arms spread, as if supporting himself. The right hand, blackened and withered as ever, nevertheless pulsed with the flow of blood… but the flow was wrong, somehow, Harry realized. The blood flowing away from his hand was tainted, somehow. It was slowly poisoning the Headmaster.

"Your hand," Harry said, suddenly, his anger dissipating, replaced with concern. "It's killing you."

Dumbledore looked at Harry; after a long moment he nodded. "Forgive me for not telling you sooner, Harry," he said, his voice becoming much smaller than normal. "Both about your vampirism, and — this." He held up his withered hand. "I — I was afraid you would think me a foolish old man if I told you the true story of what happened."

"I won't," Harry promised. "I won't, sir." Dumbledore nodded gratefully, then began telling Harry about the Deathly Hallows, three magical objects, supposedly created by Death itself, that gave their owners great power: the Elder Wand, a purportedly unbeatable wand; the Resurrection Stone, that would allow the wielder to see those who had died once again, and the Invisibility Cloak, that would render the wearer completely invisible, along with anyone who joined him beneath the Cloak.

"Your Cloak," Dumbledore pointed out. "Your father left it to you, as his father had left it to him."

"Why did you have it?" Harry asked.

"I wished to examine it," Dumbledore explained. "It was the second Hallow I had personally inspected, and I wanted to learn how powerful two of them were in tandem."

"The _second_ Hallow? You had another one, sir?"

Dumbledore took out his wand. "This is the Elder Wand," he said, holding it before him. "I have had it since defeating Grindelwald in 1945. It was why I delayed dueling him so long — I knew he possessed it, and I was afraid I would not be able to defeat him without understanding it better."

"You could have used the Invisibility Cloak," Harry pointed out. "It would have given you an edge, wouldn't it?"

"It would have," Dumbledore agreed, "if I had known where it was, then. The Potter family kept it secret until your father used it at Hogwarts. It was then I learned of its existence. James had taken it from his family's vault — perhaps thinking how useful it would be in perpetrating pranks as part of the Marauders. I impressed him that it was much important than that, although I never told him of its true origin. The Potters were not aware they were descendants of the Peverell family, from Ignotus Peverell, the brother that created it."

"But how does this tie in with your hand?" Harry pressed, wanting to know why Dumbledore was dying.

The Headmaster held up his blackened, withered hand. "Last year, not long before I came to collect you at number four Privet Drive, I learned of the Gaunt house's original location. I traveled there, finding it a complete ruin. I found Marvolo Gaunt's ring there; looking at it, I realized that the symbol on it was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows — Marvolo had believed it to be the family crest of the Peverells, his ancestors."

Dumbledore hesitated for several moments, but continued. "It is this part of which I am most ashamed, Harry. When I realized the stone in Gaunt's ring was the Resurrection Stone, I quite forgot myself. I placed it on my right hand, invoking a terrible curse, one which I only avoided succumbing to with the aid of Severus Snape. As it is," he added wryly, examining the withered appendage, "the curse was only contained, not countered. Severus and I estimate it will kill me sometime before the beginning of the fall term."

"Why did you put the ring on, sir?" Harry asked, but Dumbledore appeared not to have heard him.

"At that point, Order members were in secret negotiations with the Grand Coven," von Necros said, continuing the narrative. "Though none of the Order members save Dumbledore was privy to the actual extent of our power. We communicated with them through our servants, such as Sanguini, and through human servants, such as —"

"I'm sure Harry is more interested in his own role in this," Dumbledore suddenly spoke up.

"I'm sure," von Necros agreed, dryly. He turned to Harry. "Your headmaster found himself with a deadline to meet, quite literally. He had roughly a year to puzzle out the riddle of Voldemort before he died. Slughorn's memory is the key to that, but it took several months to show you the background information on Riddle.

"It's been two months since you've learned of Slughorn and his Horcrux memory," von Necros reminded him. "It seems you are no closer to persuading him to give it to you than you were in January. Dumbledore was quite optimistic that you would acquire it from him, eventually, and wished for you to avoid becoming a vampire; I, however, am less optimistic than him."

Harry's anger was kindling again. "So _you_ just decided to turn me into a vampire?" he hissed. "Without so much as asking what I thought about it?"

"I _did_ ask, after a fashion," von Necros disagreed. "I asked if you were willing to do whatever it takes to defeat him."

"I didn't think _vampirism_ was on the table, though!" Harry snapped.

"It is still your best chance to defeat him," von Necros insisted. "He does not know the power we wield."

A thought suddenly occurred to Harry. "If being a vampire is so great, why hasn't Voldemort become one?" he wanted to know.

"Because Voldemort, like nearly every other wizard, believes that vampires are much less powerful than we really are," von Necros informed him. "He believes that half-vampires like Sanguini are what vampires are. He rejected the idea of losing much of his magical power to become one. If he knew what true vampires are capable of — enhanced strength, speed, senses, immortality, the power to know others' thoughts and control their minds, to call certain animals to do our bidding, and other powers that Masters can possess, he might reconsider his position. We plan to use these powers against him, Harry — with your help."

"I don't see how that's possible," Harry disagreed. "Seeing that it takes decades — centuries, you told me — for such powers to develop."

"And, as I told you, I have a plan regarding that." Von Necros stood. "A plan it is now time to implement. Please understand, Harry," the vampire continued. "My original intent was to wait until you had reached your majority before Making you into one of us. Dumbledore believed you would secure Slughorn's memory, and that it would be the key to defeating him without the need for you to become one of us.

"But alas, it was not to be — the ancient magic that made it impossible for Voldemort to touch you, originally, also reacted with the vampiric infection, turning you much faster than any of us anticipated. You were already beyond the point of no return the first time I visited you at Hogwarts."

For Harry this was cold comfort. "We'd better get on with it, then," he said, raggedly. "Before I decide not to go along."

Dumbledore had stood as well, holding out his hand. "Your wand, Harry," he requested. "You will not need it once you become a vampire."

Harry drew out his wand, reluctantly, and handed it over to the headmaster, who place it in the black cabinet with his Pensieve. He returned to his desk, picking up a paperweight and touching it with his own wand. The paperweight glowed blue for a moment, and Dumbledore joined Harry and von Necros in front of the desk.

"Are you going with us?" Harry asked, recognizing the spell the Headmaster had cast on the paperweight: he had made it into a Portkey.

"His presence is required," von Necros said, shortly. He did not give a reason why Dumbledore's presence was needed, nor did Dumbledore offer one. "Touch the Portkey, Harry." Harry reached out a finger, putting it on the paperweight, as did von Necros, and a moment later it flashed blue.

Whirling, swirling colors and wind enveloped them, dragging Harry forward as if he'd been hooked just behind his navel. He'd learned not to fight the effects of the Portkey, but to let it take him to his destination, then concentrate and landing gracefully. It almost worked.

Landing, Harry toppled over backwards, landing on his prat. Both Dumbledore and von Necros remained standing; von Necros extended a hand, and Harry took it, finding himself pulled almost effortlessly to his feet by the vampire.

"Here we are," von Necros pointed to a church standing before them. "The graveyard of Godric's Hollow."

Harry looked around, taking in the sights and sounds of the small town. He knew it to be the place Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of Hogwarts, considered his home. He saw Dumbledore looking around slowly as well. "What are we doing here?" Harry asked.

"Your parents are buried in that graveyard," von Necros informed him. Harry blinked at him.

"I never knew that," he said, casting an inquiring look at Dumbledore. Why had the headmaster never told him that? But Dumbledore seemed lost in his own thoughts; he was walking slowly toward the entrance of the graveyard, a kissing gate.

"Come," von Necros said, and the two of them followed Dumbledore through the gate and into the graveyard.

"What — what are we doing here?" Harry asked, apprehensive.

"Observing the amenities," von Necros responded, cryptically. They wound their way through the gravestones and memorials; both Dumbledore and von Necros seemed immune to the cold, driving winds of early March, though Harry felt chilled to the bone. "Not much farther," the vampire muttered, and a few dozen feet later they stopped in front of two headstones, side by side.

The first headstone had writing on it, and Harry caught his breath, the cold wind forgotten, as he read the words of the first name upon it:

James Potter  
>Born 27 March 1960<br>Died 31 October 1981

And beside it

Lily Potter  
>Born 30 January 1960<br>Died 31 October 1981

Below both their names was the quotation:

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

Harry frowned at that quotation — it seemed wrong, somehow, like something a Death Eater might say. But the name on the second gravestone made him stop, looking at it in horrified wonder.

Harry James Potter  
>Born 31 July 1980<br>Died 3 March 1997

"It's my — my…" Harry didn't know how to describe it.

"Your final resting place," von Necros supplied, his voice devoid of any emotion. "At least, as far as the world is concerned." He turned, calling to the Headmaster, "Albus, it is time." Dumbledore was a couple of rows away, staring at another gravestone. It faced away from Harry; he couldn't see what name was on it. The headmaster looked up, as if coming out of a trance, then walked slowly over to join them.

"If you would, please," Von Necros gestured toward Harry, and Dumbledore nodded curtly. He flicked his wand, and suddenly an ornate wooden casket seemed to fly out of nowhere. It settled on the hard frozen ground in front of Harry's gravestone, then opened by itself. The inner lining appeared quite comfortable, Harry noted — silk, it appeared to be, and the finest velvet. Inside the casket he could see a set of dress robes, red and gold, the colors of Gryffindor.

Harry was staring at this so intently that he was surprised when he felt a hand on the back of his head and a sudden jerk that pulled some of his hairs free. "Ouch!" he said, looking around to see Dumbledore directly behind him.

"Excuse my roughness, Harry," Dumbledore murmured apologetically. "It is necessary."

Rubbing the back of his head, Harry turned back to the vampire. Von Necros' next words sent a chill up his spine. "Would you put on the robe, then get in please, Harry?"

"Are you joking?" Harry sputtered incredulously. "Are you really going to _bury_ me?"

"No," von Necros shook his head. "But we need to create the illusion that you _are_ buried here, in case anyone suspects you are still alive, somehow, after the reports of your death are made public. "Now, if you please…"

Harry reached in, pulling out the robe and drawing it over himself, then stepped into the casket, sitting down and lying back. He crossed his hands over his chest, giving von Necros a sardonic look. "Is this what you had in mind?"

"Something like that," von Necros replied, his tone as ironic as Harry's. "Now, Albus, if you please…"

Dumbledore nodded and stepped next to Harry's casket. A flick of his wand and several branches, from nearby trees, flew over to land on the ground beside the casket. Another flick of Dumbledore's wand and the branches were Transfigured into an exact replica of Harry's casket.

Dumbledore frowned, muttering arcane phrases under his breath. From beneath his robes the headmaster removed a small doll, which floated from his hand into the newly-Transfigured casket. Dumbledore then removed a potion from his robes, unstoppered the bottle and placed Harry's hairs into it. The contents of the bottle changed color, becoming a brilliant yellow, then settling into a golden glow. Dumbledore stepped beside the second casket, pouring the golden potion over the doll, all the while continuing to mutter in the unknown language, until there was a loud _bang_ and a flash of light from the duplicate coffin.

"Now we are ready," von Necros said, reaching under his cloak. He produced a vial of silvery-blue liquid, a liquid Harry immediately recognized.

"You said there was no more unicorn blood!" he said, accusingly. He might still stay alive another day, if von Necros let him drink it!

"This is not to keep you alive, Harry," von Necros shook his head. "This is to make you the most powerful newly-Made vampire possible." He pulled out the stopper and drained the contents in one fluid motion. Harry felt disappointed, cheated — what was von Necros' plan?

A moment later he found out. Von Necros knelt next to his casket. "I must take your blood, Harry," he said. "I will drain you nearly to the point of unconsciousness. That will be the moment of truth for both of us — I cannot force you to continue after that. It will be up to you whether you do as I say." He lifted Harry gently by his shoulders until he was sitting upright. "Ready," von Necros said, baring Harry's neck, then sank his fangs into him.

Harry felt his life pouring out of him as von Necros drank his blood. The sensation was both painful and exquisitely, unexplainably pleasant, nothing like he had ever experienced before. He became weaker and weaker, feeling his head spinning with blood loss. How close to the end of his life would von Necros take him? Thirst was beginning to well up inside him, the thirst for blood. It became more and more insistent the longer von Necros drank.

Finally Harry felt the fangs pull away; he was reeling with dizziness, nearly unconscious, and the vampire laid him back down in the casket. Drawing back the sleeve on his right arm, he made a slashing gesture across his wrist. Bright blood welled up in the wound, and von Necros placed it against Harry's mouth. "Choose," the vampire told him. "Choose life, and drink, or death, and renounce your promise to defeat Lord Voldemort."

The blood staining Harry's lips was like sweetest nectar to his raging thirst. There was really no choice to make. He reached up, taking hold of von Necros' arm and pressed it to his lips, drawing out the life-giving blood. Mouthful after mouthful he drew from the vampire, feeling it suffuse throughout his body, making him stronger.

"Enough!" von Necros finally pulled his arm away from Harry's mouth. He stared at the wound; it had already started to heal, the cut closing and sealing itself.

"N-now w-what?" Harry whispered, looking up at von Necros. "When — when do I become a vampire?"

"It normally takes three days for a newly-Made vampire to rise," von Necros explained. "But the unicorn blood I drank, along with your blood mixed with mine, should enable you to rise very quickly."

A spasm of pain suddenly passed through Harry. "What's happening?" he cried out, wrapping his arms around himself. "Why does it hurt?"

"Well, you still need to die, Harry," von Necros replied. "Don't worry, it won't take long."

More spasms passed through Harry, lessening in pain each time, until he closed his eyes and lay still. After a minute or so Dumbledore crinkled his nose as the odor of human waste suddenly rose from Harry's casket.

"An unfortunate side-effect of the dying process," von Necros shrugged. "It would be a courtesy, Albus, if you would…." Dumbledore nodded and Vanished the feces and urine that had leaked from Harry's body, then used a Cleaning Charm to remove the rest from his clothing and the casket.

A few minutes later, Harry's body stirred again. His eyes opened, and he sat up in the casket. "Strange…" he said, looking around. "I didn't think things would be this…different."

"What do you see, Harry?" It was the first time Dumbledore had spoken since their arrival in Godric's Hollow.

"Everything is much more…vivid…sharper," Harry replied, looking around him. "I can hear things I never imagined…dozens of heartbeats, people talking on the other side of town…their thoughts, even. It's almost…_too_ much."

"You'll learn to ignore it soon enough," von Necros said, gently. "How do you feel now?"

"Better," Harry told him. "I thought I'd be, er, hungrier than I feel, though."

"It's the unicorn blood," von Necros explained. "It's much more satiating to us than even human blood. That, added to my own blood, and the blood I drank from you, altered by my body and taken back into yours, has accelerated your vampiric development tremendously."

Harry nodded, even though he had no idea what kind of developments von Necros was referring to. "Now what do we do?" he asked.

"I will take you back to my castle, for now," von Necros said, helping Harry step out of the casket. As he stood, Harry glanced into the coffin next to his, the one Dumbledore had conjured. Instead of the skeleton, he saw a body composed peacefully in the casket—his own body. He turned and stepped away, standing next to von Necros.

Dumbledore waved his wand again and both caskets slid to one side, leaving a bare patch of ground. Another wave and a square hole appeared; the duplicate casket slid over and floated down into the hole, which then refilled with dirt.

"That should be sufficient," Dumbledore said, quietly. "The body will withstand all but the most exacting scrutiny. For all intents, Harry Potter's body is buried here, next to his parents."

Von Necros looked satisfied as well. He turned to Dumbledore. "I will need two Portkeys — one to Ottery St. Catchpole, and one to my castle. Albus, will you make sure Harry's casket is sent there as well?"

Dumbledore nodded. Harry could hardly remember the Headmaster being so deferential to someone. "What will you and Harry be doing in Ottery St. Catchpole, Baron?"

Harry had already recognized the name of the town von Necros mentioned. "We're going to pay our final respects to Harry's friend, Ron Weasley," the vampire said. "Then, Harry's going to be very busy for the next few weeks, learning about his new life."

Dumbledore collected two white rocks from the ground. He tapped each of them with his wand; one rock turned red, the other gold. Two more taps and each rock glowed blue. He handed them to von Necros. "The red Portkey will take you to the graveyard in Ottery St. Catchpole in one minute. Ten minutes after that, the gold one will Portkey you to your castle. Harry's casket will be waiting in your Entrance Hall."

The headmaster put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Good luck, Harry," he said, smiling at him, though there was no characteristic twinkle in his eye. "I wish there had been more time for our lessons."

"I do, too, sir," Harry agreed, somberly. "I hope you can get Professor Slughorn to give you that memory."

"We'll see — perhaps Horace will have a change of heart," Dumbledore replied, though his voice made it clear he thought there was little chance of that now.

"Almost time to go," von Necros said, holding out the red rock to Harry. "Put your finger on it."

Harry did, and almost immediately the Portkey activated, sending them whirling through colors and sounds to land, moments later, next to the church in Ottery St. Catchpole.

Even though the wind was nearly as cold here as it had been in Godric's Hollow, Harry no longer felt it as he had there. Right now, even standing this close to where his best friend was now buried, he seemed to feel nothing, even though he should — feel — _something_! Ron was _dead_ — that had been mightily important to him just a few days ago. He turned to von Necros.

"Do we have to do this?" he asked, plaintively. "I think I should start learning about my vampiric powers."

"Not ready to pay your final respects to your best friend?" von Necros surmised. Harry made no reply. "It's only natural for you to feel that way, Harry — you've just been Made, it's bound to be a shock to your system. Don't worry, we won't be here long; remember Dumbledore delayed the second Portkey by only ten minutes. This may be the only chance you'll get to visit Ron's grave."

Harry nodded, indifferent, and followed von Necros into the churchyard. It wasn't very large, smaller than the graveyard in Godric's Hollow had been, and soon they were standing in front of a small plaque, inscribed:

Ronald Bilius Weasley  
>Beloved Son and Brother<br>Born: 1 March 1980  
>Died: 1 March 1997<p>

There was no quotation below his name. Harry stared at the plaque for several seconds, but no grief, no sorrow filled his thoughts. Ron was gone, and that was that. He turned away. "I'm done here," he told von Necros. "Let's go."

But von Necros put a hand on his shoulder. "Wait," he said. "Listen."

Uncomprehending, Harry turned back, concentrating on trying to hear something. He could hear people talking and laughing in the nearby taverns and pubs, the footsteps of those hurrying from one building to another; the heartbeats of dozens of warm bodies, precious blood pumping through them. What else was he expected to hear —?

There was a sudden crunching sound, quite nearby. Harry looked around — no one was around, though it sounded as if someone was digging. "What — what is that sound?" Harry asked aloud.

"Right on time," von Necros smiled, pointing to Ron's grave. As if on cue, a hand suddenly pushed out of the ground, followed by another hand pushing the frozen ground aside. A head appeared — red-haired, covered in dirt, then shoulders.

Ron Weasley heaved himself out of the ground, panting at the exertion of digging through six feet of dirt. He got slowly to his feet, looking around in confusion, starting when he saw Harry and von Necros standing nearby.

"Harry," he gasped hoarsely. "What the bloody hell —?"

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Ron Weasley," von Necros intoned, in a somber but friendly voice. "Though perhaps I should say, welcome to the ranks of the undead."


	6. Whose Death Is This, Anyway?

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

**Chapter Six**  
><strong>"Whose Death Is This, Anyway?"<strong>

Updated November 26, 2011

Harry turned angrily toward von Necros. "How did you forget to mention that you'd turned Ron into a vampire?"

Von Necros did not react to Harry's outburst. "I will explain in due time, Harry —"

Ron was shaking dirt out of his hair. "Whose stupid idea was it to bury me? What kind of joke is this? I'm not dead!"

"Are you sure about that?" von Necros asked, and Ron gave him a quizzical look. He looked around, seeing his surroundings for the first time since coming out of the ground.

His reaction was not what Harry expected it would be. "All right, Fred and George!" he said, loudly, putting his hands on his hips. "Very funny! Ha-ha-ha. Even got Harry in on it this time! Joke's over, okay?"

"Ron!" Harry could see his friend wasn't tracking what had happened to him. This was not going to be easy. Ron hated vampires almost as much as he did spiders — Harry had no idea how he'd react to actually _being_ one. "It's not a joke, Ron."

Ron snorted skeptically. "Course it is, Harry — they know how much I hate the idea of being a vampire! It's just the kind of prank they'd pull on me!" He pointed at Harry. "An' just look at _you _— made up like you're some kind of vampire or something , with that pale, white face — you an' your friend there! Not very funny, Harry!"

Von Necros looked at Harry. "I didn't realize he was going to be this hard to convince."

"Well, in his defense," Harry admitted. "His brothers _do_ pull some pretty good jokes."

"Come on, where are they?" Ron demanded. "They're probably listening to us on those Extendable Ears, aren't they? When I tell Mum —"

"It's time we were going," von Necros announced suddenly. He held up the gold rock. "Harry, Ron, if you would —"

Harry put his finger on the rock, then gestured for Ron to do the same. "Come on, Ron," he said, coaxingly. "We're going back to the castle."

Ron was shaking his head, a skeptical expression still on his face. "This is a lot of bleeding trouble just to try and scare me. Either that or I'm dreaming." He shrugged and put a finger on the rock. "Might as well go along with this."

The rock glowed blue and a few seconds later they were standing (mostly standing — Ron had fallen over upon landing, while Harry and von Necros remained on their feet) in front of a large, imposing castle perched at the top of a hill overlooking a forest. A river meandered lazily around the periphery of the castle, enclosing it on three sides, and a distance away Harry could make out a small town. He could hear the faint beating of human hearts from the town, as well as a multitude of sounds from the forest — animal heartbeats. He estimated there were a couple hundred people in the town and a large assortment of animals in the woods.

Ron was staring up at the castle. "This isn't Hogwarts," he frowned. "Is it?" He looked at Harry. "This is getting more and more confusing."

"Come inside, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter," von Necros beckoned the two of them. He led both Harry and Ron inside. "I'd like to show you around, get you settled in. Perhaps we can have a talk about what's happened to you."

"Yeah…" Ron said slowly, still looking around uncertainly as they walked into the large Entrance Hall. More ostentatious than Hogwarts' Entrance Hall, this room had intricate tapestries hanging from every wall, and rows of ancient armor and shields standing along the walls. There was a huge marble staircase leading up to the first floor at the far end of the hall, and several doorways along each side.

"Not as large as your school's castle," von Necros admitted, as they into the first set of doors on the left, large oaken double doors that led to the Great Hall of the castle. Like the Great Hall at Hogwarts, this Great Hall contained long, polished tables for dining; the difference was that the tables were arranged in a large U pattern, with chairs on both sides. The largest chair at the table, the Great Chair, was a tall, ornately-carved throne in the middle of the U, facing all of the others chairs. "But it's not much smaller than Hogwarts, either. This is where I entertain guests."

"You have guests?" Harry was surprised by that. "I didn't think that va—" he glanced quickly at Ron "— er, your kind, would have many guests."

Von Necros was amused. "I have many contacts, Harry, both in Britain and around the world. Not all of them are, well, my _kind_, as you say."

"So _where_ are we, exactly?" Ron wanted to know. He turned to Harry. "After we were at Slughorn's, after I —" he shook his head, remembering how he'd felt about Romilda Vane, a feeling that now seemed cold and dead to him. "— well, after whatever happened, and we drank a toast to — to m-my birthday…" Ron trailed off, and Harry realized — when they'd been at Ron's grave earlier that evening, he'd felt remote, detached from his friend's death. But now — now, perhaps the shock of becoming undead had worn off. Harry felt a — a vast hole in himself, not _for_ himself, but for Ron. Ron was looking at him with an expression of utter confusion, of being completely lost.

"Ron," he said, looking at Ron sympathetically. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, Ron, but we're — we're dead."

"Dead?" Ron couldn't seem to process that word. "We can't be dead, Harry — we're still walking around, aren't we? Dead men don't walk!"

"Because we're _vampires_, Ron!" Harry almost shouted this, trying to get it through Ron's thick skull. "You and I were made into vampires!"

Ron frowned in disbelief. "Harry, don't be mental — vampires aren't dead. That's things like Inferi. Vampires are just, well — weird, bloodsucking freaks. You said you met one at Slughorn's party, remember? What was his name?"

"It was Sanguini," someone else answered; Harry, Ron and von Necros turned toward the new arrival. Harry immediately recognized the half-vampire: pale and gaunt, just as he'd been that day at Slughorn's party, and afterward, on the courtyard balcony. "We had an interesting talk, did we not — you and your little blonde friend?" Sanguini walked forward until he stood in front of von Necros. He stopped and bowed. "My lord, I have prepared resting places for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, as you instructed."

Ron turned to Harry. "Are we staying the night?"

"You're staying the _day_, Mr. Weasley," von Necros said. "Tomorrow you'll have the grand tour of the castle, but for now it's time we showed you where you'll be sleeping."

Sanguini led the way back to the Entrance Hall, then into an adjoining corridor. They passed several rooms, smaller versions of the Great Hall, before coming to a nondescript room, lined with shelves that were filled with books, seemingly a dead end. Moving to the second shelf from the left, Sanguini reached for the third row from the top, tipping the third, fifth and seventh books from the left end forward. As he moved the last book, the shelf rotated ninety degrees clockwise. Sanguini stepped back, allowing von Necros to go before him. "Follow me," the vampire said to Harry and Ron.

There was a staircase behind the shelf, seemingly cut into the rock of the hill the castle was built upon. Though it was unlit, to Harry's eyes it was quite easy to see. Ron, however, was stepping carefully, as if unsure where the steps were. Could he not see as well? Harry wondered.

The staircase curved slowly around, coming to a corridor which they followed to a small room with several doors in it. "Here is where you'll be staying," von Necros told them, pointing to the first door on the right. Sanguini, bringing up the rear, stepped over to the door, producing a large iron key from his coat pocket, and unlocked the door.

Inside the room's stone walls were lined in velvet curtains, except for one wall where two braziers burned with bright yellow flames. In the center of the room were two caskets, one of which Harry recognized as the one he'd been in when von Necros drained his blood, earlier that evening.

Von Necros opened the other casket and turned to Ron. "I hope you like this one, Mr. Weasley — your parents weren't able to afford much of a coffin for you. I had Sanguini pick one out for you from our stores."

Ron was staring at the coffin with a bemused expression. "Right," he said, distractedly. "Very nice." He raised an eyebrow. "Of course, I must be dreaming all this, so what difference does it make?"

"You may want to sleep on that, Mr. Weasley, and we'll talk about it tonight, after you've awakened. For now, I think you're looking a bit sleepy."

As if on cue, Ron yawned hugely. "I am, at that," he agreed. He looked at the casket again. "You really want me to sleep in that thing?" Von Necros nodded. Ron shook his head, but then shrugged and climbed in. "Fred and George are never going to believe this dream," he said, composing himself in the coffin, crossing his arms over his chest, as he'd seen with other bodies in caskets. "I just hope I can remember it, to tell them…" he began to snore.

"Did you make him go to sleep?" Harry asked.

"No," von Necros replied. "A vampire so young, so newly-made — he feels the coming sunrise even before it occurs."

"He died before I did!" Harry objected. "Why aren't I sleepy as well?"

"Your circumstances are different than his, Harry," von Necros explained. "We both drank unicorn blood, and I mixed your blood with mine before allowing you to take most of it back. I am a Master — the blood that courses through me is powerful. With the magic of the unicorn blood added to that, you were given abilities that normally take a vampire a century or more to acquire. Ron did not have that advantage — the suddenness of his death precluded it."

"Why didn't you do that for him as well as me?" Harry demanded.

"I had no time to procure more unicorn blood, to enhance his powers the way yours were," von Necros explained.

"Then _why_ did you do it?" Harry exclaimed. "Even now Ron thinks he's dreaming all this! I don't think he'll be able to accept that he's been turned into a vampire!"

"It may seem surreal to him right now," von Necros agreed. "Some of the newly-made have difficulty adapting to the situation. We try to select those who we think will be able to handle it, but Mr. Weasley was a special situation."

"A special situation?" Harry frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"I visited the infirmary the night after you and Ron were placed there, after everyone was asleep," von Necros said. "You were weak from missing your potion, but Ron was unconscious and worsening. The poison in the mead was slowly killing him, despite the bezoar you'd given him and Madam Pomfrey's ministrations.

"I was able to enter Ron's mind, to hear his last thoughts as he began to pass from this world. They were of you, Harry," von Necros told him, gently. "He wished he could help you finish the quest to defeat Voldemort, you and he and Hermione Granger. Your own thoughts were of a similar vein, when I read your mind afterwards."

Hearing Hermione mentioned by von Necros sent a chill down Harry's spine. "You — didn't — infect her too, did you?" Harry asked, tightly.

"Oh dear, no," von Necros shook his head. "That would have looked suspicious, and would have invoked the Law of Related Events."

Harry had never heard of such a law. "What's that?"

"It's a rule classifying similar occurrences," von Necros said, then quoted, "'Once is an accident; twice is a coincidence; three or more times is a pattern.' If you, Ron and Hermione all seemed to die around the same time under mysterious circumstances, Voldemort would likely suspect something."

"What about 'Death comes in threes,'" Harry pointed out another old saying he'd heard mentioned over the years, especially behind his back, when things weren't going well at the school.

"Voldemort likely believes that," von Necros replied, "since he or his Death Eaters routinely deliver death in threes. You and your parents were singled out for just such an attack."

"But I've heard that Voldemort didn't want to kill my mother, for some reason," Harry objected. "He was coming for my father and me that night, not for her."

Von Necros shook his head. "I don't think Voldemort was serious about sparing your mother, Harry. He probably considered it, as a favor to an especially loyal follower, but it did not take much for him to change his mind, it seems."

"Wait a minute," Harry said quickly. He felt a lethargy beginning to settle into his limbs — it must be nearing sunrise. But he still had questions for von Necros. "What loyal follower? And why would that follower want my mother spared? Was it Peter Pettigrew?" Harry's blood boiled at the thought that Wormtail, the least of the Marauders, the gang that his father James and godfather Sirius Black had belonged to back in their days at Hogwarts. His third-year DADA teacher, Remus Lupin, had also been in the gang along with Pettigrew. Had Pettigrew nursed some kind of secret crush on his mother, all those years, only to betray her and his father over it?

But von Necros was shaking his head. "No, Harry. Peter Pettigrew's primary concern was the survival of Peter Pettigrew. He was not much on relationships with others, especially ones where he was expected to give of himself. His loyalty to Voldemort was primarily based on fear, but he also saw the Dark Lord as a much better protector than his friends James or Sirius."

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn.

"I see you are tired," the vampire said, as if he hadn't heard the question. He pointed to Harry's casket. "Take your rest — we'll talk more this evening, after you've awakened." He turned, walking out of the room through a different door, one that had suddenly appeared in the wall, after gesturing for Sanguini to follow him; Sanguini nodded toward Harry and left with his master.

Harry stood there for another minute, wondering how he felt about sleeping in a coffin. Other thoughts were whirling through his mind as well. Who was the "loyal follower" who'd wanted his mother's life spared? Harry could not imagine a Death Eater who would want a Muggle-born, as his mother had been. That made no sense at all, given the contempt that Voldemort held for all Muggle-borns and half-bloods.

And what was he going to do about Ron? Harry had to admit to himself that he felt less alone with Ron here, but making Ron a vampire was not something Harry would have wished on his worst enemy. Okay, maybe Draco Malfoy, but…

And Ron seemed completely gormless about _being_ a vampire. How could someone dig themselves out from under six feet of dirt and not realize something was really, really _wrong_ with that? Either Fred and George had played some really elaborate pranks on their younger brother over the years, or Ron was in complete denial about what had happened to him. It might be a little of both, for all Harry knew. He would have to talk to Ron tomorrow when he woke up, try to let him down softly. Von Necros was being entirely too casual about the whole thing. If he and Ron were going to work together to defeat Voldemort, he would need Ron thinking properly, not worrying over his situation or what his family thought.

And that brought up _another_ problem — Hermione must be devastated by their deaths. Her two best friends were gone, just like that. What would she be thinking, doing right now? Harry could hardly imagine. He just hoped she would find comfort with the Weasleys and her own parents. There was little Harry himself could do to help her — he was now a creature of the night, committed to destroying Voldemort then disappearing into the shadows, never to be seen or heard of again in the Wizarding world. Maybe that was just as well — he'd never asked to be the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Chosen One. Getting rid of Voldemort might be simpler if he did it from the shadows, rather than as the Ministry's poster boy or as Dumbledore's man.

Harry slipped quietly into his coffin. As tired as he was beginning to feel, the casket felt oddly comforting. The only thing to be worried about now, other than Ron or Hermione, was the tinge of thirst that was making itself known in the pit of his stomach. What would he do when it reached the level of the thirst he'd felt during his last few days as a human, when it took almost a supreme effort to keep himself from attacking people, even ones he cared about, like Hermione and Dumbledore? Perhaps he could sleep on it, Harry thought ironically. He reached up, pulling the casket closed. The comfort of the darkness, combined with his growing lethargy, let Harry drop off to sleep within a minute or so.

=ooo=

"Hermione?"

Hermione Granger was curled up on her dormitory bed in a fetal position, where she had spent most of her time since last Sunday, after learning of Ron's death the night before. She had sought solace then at Harry's bedside, and he had awakened, but they had little time to talk before she had to leave the infirmary. Now, with Harry's death last night, she had no reason to get out of bed, none at all.

"Hermione…it's Ginny…"

Hermione had recognized the voice, Ron's younger sister and her friend as well. She squeezed her eyes more tightly closed, not wanting to deal with the world before she felt ready again. _If_ she ever felt ready…

"There's a memorial service for Harry this afternoon," Ginny said, trying to sound conversational, though Hermione knew how Ginny felt about Harry; they had talked about him ever since Ginny came to Hogwarts in their second year. She'd had a crush on him ever since she saw him on Platform 9¾, the year Hermione, Harry and Ron first went to the school. That crush had blossomed into something deeper after Harry saved her from T.M. Riddle's diary and the horrible things it had made her do. But for years Hermione had been her only confidant — she dared not speak of it with anyone in her circle of family and friends, not even her mother, Hermione knew.

"He'll be lying in state, McGonagall said," Ginny added. "It'll be the last time we'll be able to see him before — before…" her voice trailed off, and she was silent for some time.

Finally, "Professor McGonagall also told me if you didn't attend the memorial," Ginny went on. "She was going to send you down to the infirmary, to have Madam Pomfrey check you over." Hermione sighed. McGonagall was only looking out for her, she knew, as heavy-handed as she seemed to be going about it. She rolled over, staring up at Ginny.

"I suppose McGonagall knows best," she said, sardonically.

"She just wants to know you're okay," Ginny protested. "_I _want to know you're okay, too."

Hermione pushed herself upright, and Ginny sat on the side of the bed. "I'm fine," Hermione said, rubbing her eyes as if tired; in reality she was clearing away any tears that still remained. "It just seems so — pointless, I suppose, after everything we've been through." She looked at Ginny, a feeling of helplessness flooding through her. "Harry's done so many amazing things over the years…to have him get sick and die, after all that, seems…wrong."

Ginny nodded, her expression showing the pain that she, too, felt. "I was beginning to think, after all this time, that Harry might finally be interested in me. I've caught him looking at me in _that_ way, you know?"

Hermione nodded. "Boys mature later," she said, knowingly. "We both know that about Ron, don't we?" Both of them managed weak smiles at that — Ron had been on something of a tear this year. First, his ups and downs on the Quidditch pitch, then the — the _thing_ he had going with Lavender Brown. While Hermione expected it was just a phase he was going through, Ginny had been incensed at the way he'd been acting with Lavender in public, especially after his less-than-tolerant attitude about her relationships with Michael Corner and Dean Thomas.

And now, it was too late for either of them to do anything about it — Ron was gone, and so was Harry. Hermione nodded wearily. "I'll go to the memorial," she told Ginny. "If only to keep Professor McGonagall happy."

Ginny stood. "Good," she said, quietly. "I'll let her —" There was a motion at the door, and both of them turned to see a flash of straw-colored hair as the person turned and ran back down the staircase. Both Hermione and Ginny recognized the hair as belonging to Lavender Brown. She had apparently seen them talking and decided not to enter the dormitory, perhaps not wanting a two-on-one confrontation.

"I'll let her know," Ginny finished. "It's this afternoon at 4 P.M. in the Great Hall. I'll — I'll see you then…" Ginny started toward the door, but turned and hugged Hermione tightly. Hermione hugged her back, feeling more connected to her than ever, now that her brother was no longer around.

Ginny let go, then rubbed her eyes. "S-see you…" she said again, and ran from the room. Hermione sat there for some time, looking at the door. After a while she laid back on the bed. She would have to get up before long, she knew — she hadn't washed or done her hair since the night Ron died — and she needed a visit to the prefects' bath.

As dictatorial as McGonagall was being about it, Hermione knew the Transfiguration teacher was right — she did need to get past her grief. Hermione even managed a tiny smiled, thinking that Harry and Ron would never believe it, but she hadn't attended a single class since they'd passed on.

And there _was_ something she could do now, in honor of both Harry and Ron's memories: she could find out what Professor Slughorn's memory was, the one about "Horcruxes," and get it to Professor Dumbledore. If it was so important that Dumbledore had been giving Harry private "lessons" on the matter, it still needed doing, even if Harry could no longer carry on the assignment himself.

=ooo=

Harry opened his eyes.

Even though there was very little light coming into the casket from the braziers burning in the chamber, Harry could see the interior of his coffin quiet clearly. It was before sunset — he could also sense where the sun was in the sky, even though they must be deep underground.

Harry sat up, pushing the coffin lid open. Ron's casket was still closed. How long would it be before he awoke, Harry wondered. He stood and stepped out of the coffin, wondering what he should do next. He walked slowly around the room, looking at the tapestries on the wall, searching for the door that von Necros and Sanguini had exited through last night — it seemed to be well-hidden now.

This whole situation was mucked up, Harry felt. If he was the important one, the one they needed to defeat Voldemort, then why drag Ron into it? Even if he _was_ dying, Harry wouldn't have wished being undead on him. Or, that's what he hoped he'd think.

Would it be easier with Ron along, helping him? It depended entirely on what Ron was capable of. Harry wasn't even sure what _he_ was capable of, now — von Necros had not told him what kind of powers he had. He only knew that he was stronger and faster than he'd been as a human, and he could stay awake longer in daytime than Ron could.

Ron's coffin creaked at that moment; as Harry watched, the lid swung slowly open and Ron sat up, a look of mixed puzzlement and horror on his face. He looked slowly up at Harry. "I'm not dreaming this, am I?" he whispered, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "I'm — I'm really lying in a coffin…"

"Afraid so," Harry concurred. He walked over to Ron's coffin, extending a hand to help him up. Ron took it automatically and Harry lifted him effortlessly to his feet. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked Ron.

"Uh — I dunno," Ron stammered. "We were at this castle last night — you, an' me, and a couple of other guys. They brought us to this room…" he looked around, "then had me crawl inside this — coffin." He looked back at what he'd just stepped out of.

"When I woke up, I could hear — something — thumping in my ears," Ron went on, talking in a monotone, as if he were half-asleep. "And I could smell, well, blood, I guess. It — it was making me hungry."

He blinked, then looked at Harry with an expression of disbelief. "Why would I be hungry for _blood_, though — unless, unless I was a — v-vampire…?"

Harry didn't say anything, but nodded slightly. Ron flinched, shaking his head and stepping back from Harry. "No!" he shouted. "Harry, I _can't_ be a vampire! I don't even _like_ the sight of blood!"

"I know," Harry said, trying to calm his friend. "Just take it easy, Ron —"

"Take it easy?" Ron pulled away from him. "Are you nucking futz, Harry? I mean — you know what I mean! How did this happen to me?"

"Sit down," Harry ordered, pointing to Ron's casket. Ron gave him a baleful look, but put down the lid and sat down. "I'll tell you everything I know up until now."

Harry described the events of the past three days to Ron, who listened with a growing intensity as Harry described him coming up out of the ground and their trip to von Necros' castle.

"But you weren't buried for three days, then?" Ron asked, when Harry was finished. "So why was I?"

"The way von Necros explained it," Harry said, "He and I both drank unicorn blood before he drank my blood then had me drink his."

"Unicorn blood?" Ron shook his head sharply. "You told me some centaur said that drinking unicorn blood would curse whoever drank it!"

"It will if you _kill_ the unicorn for it," Harry objected. "But he had someone get the blood from the unicorn willingly."

Ron looked revolted. "That's disgusting! Who would have done _that_?" Ron blanched at a sudden thought he'd had. "It — it wasn't _Hermione_, was it?"

"No, Hermione doesn't know this happened to us," Harry assured him.

"How d'you know _that_? You said _Dumbledore_ knows about these vampires, the ones that nobody knows exists! Who else might know?"

"I don't know, Ron," Harry shook his head. "All I do know is, we're supposed to help the vampires defeat Voldemort." Surprisingly, Ron didn't flinch at the Dark Lord's name this time.

"Well, it would have been bloody polite of them to ask first before they killed us, don't you think?" Ron muttered, brooding. "Creeping around at night killing people and sucking their blood was not on my list of things to do after Hogwarts, you know."

"According to von Necros, we don't have to kill anyone to survive," Harry reminded him. "We can live on the blood of animals."

"Like unicorns?" Ron snorted. "Or maybe we should go off into the Forbidden Forest and suck all the spiders and centaurs dry, then?"

"I don't think Hagrid would like that," Harry said, dryly.

"Yeah, well Hagrid would make a pretty big meal himself, wouldn't he?" Ron pointed out, darkly, but with a twisted grin on his face.

Harry frowned at him. "Not funny, Ron," he said disapprovingly.

"Just joking," Ron sighed, rubbing his stomach. "I'm just — well, cranky 'cause I haven't had anything to eat in a while."

"Me either," Harry agreed. His thirst was prickling the back of his throat — not too insistently, but he wouldn't say no to some warm, sweet —

"That forest has some animals in it," Harry said, suddenly. "Maybe we should go see what we can find out there. What do you think?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm game, but —" he looked around the chamber they were in. "Do you remember how to get out of here?"

Harry walked over to the door they had come through last night. It was locked. Frustrated, Harry slapped it with the flat of his hand — a loud CRACK resounded throughout the chamber, but the door remained locked. "Can't get out that way," he muttered. "I thought I was supposed to be stronger, but that door is _solid_."

"How did those other two blokes get out of here, then" Ron pondered.

"There was another door," Harry recalled. "Maybe I can find it." He stood and moved toward one of the walls, running his fingers across the stones. After checking for a few seconds his fingertips felt a slight breeze between two bricks. He continued to search, finding the edges of the door that was hidden in the wall. There had to be an activation switch of some kind, he knew. His hand brushed against one of the stones and it gave slightly. He pushed it in, and the door slid outward, then off to one side, revealing a stone passageway.

"Here we go," Harry said softly, and he and Ron crept along the passageway for several dozen yards before it opened into another room, one with three caskets lined up in it, all open and empty. A large wooden door was open nearby, and they moved toward it.

Beyond the door, a corridor ran to the left and right. Harry chose left at random, and he and Ron moved quietly along, listening carefully for any sounds ahead of them. There was nothing except the faint thump of many heartbeats from the nearby town and forest. Hearing them, Harry's thirst was beginning to increase, adding to his growing tension.

The corridor turned into a staircase, and they followed it upward until they came to another large wooden door. This one wasn't locked. Stepping through it, Harry and Ron found themselves in a small stone shed filled with gardening implements. They both looked at the spades, rakes and cutting tools. "What's a vampire need with gardening tools?" Ron wondered aloud. "I can't really see him out during the day tending his vegetables…"

Harry tried the door they had come through. It was locked from this side. Another door led out of the shed. "I guess we're going out that way," Harry pointed. He pushed open the door, and they found themselves outside the castle, near one of its walls.

"Whoa," Ron breathed, invigorated by the openness of the outdoors. Harry felt it as well — as if he'd been freed from a binding, constricting enclosure. Outside, his senses felt more intense than ever; he could hear the heartbeats of hundreds of animals and humans, smell the warm blood flowing through their veins. His eyes, now quite accustomed to the darkness, could pick out minute details a hundred yards away; before, he'd barely been able to see fifty feet ahead of himself without his glasses.

Down the hill, a hundred yards away, was the edge of the forest where he sensed all that blood. Off to either side of the forest was the river that he'd seen meandering around the castle. It looked as if the course of the river had been changed to flow around the castle. A strange thing to do, Harry thought. He turned to Ron, who was giving him a crooked grin. "Fancy a race?" Ron asked, pointing to the forest.

"Why not?" Harry grinned back, feeling free and exuberant as well. "On three, then."

"Right," Ron agreed, and leaned forward, putting himself in a runner's starting position. "One, two —" He suddenly sprinted forward, yelling "Three!"

"Oi!" Harry shouted, then sprinted after him. Ron's speed was inhumanly fast, but before they were halfway to the forest Harry had passed him by. He ran into the forest, slipping gracefully around trees as if he'd done so all his life. A few hundred yards into the forest, in a small clearing, he slowed and stopped, waiting for Ron, who caught up to him several seconds later.

"Blimey," Ron said, stopping next to Harry. "I never saw anyone run so fast. It was almost like you were flying!"

"It felt like it," Harry agreed. Neither one of them were winded at all. It was almost pitch black this deep in the forest, this late at night, but Harry could hear and see all kinds of animals around him. Most of them were moving away from him and Ron, but a few seemed to be waiting, almost expectant. Harry nodded to a pair of eyes ahead of him, softly gleaming in the tiny bit of moonlight that shone through the canopy of the forest. "D'you see that, ahead of us?" he asked, softly.

Ron squinted, looking carefully, but — "I don't see anything," he replied just as quietly. "What is it?"

"Looks like a deer," Harry muttered. "I wish it'd come closer…"

As if on cue, the deer turned and walked toward them, stopping only a few yards from the two. Harry and Ron looked quizzically at one another. "Do you think it heard you?" Ron quipped.

"I dunno," Harry said, then locked eyes with the deer again. "_Come to me_," he thought at it.

The deer walked directly up to him. Harry could sense the warm blood flowing through it, pulsing in time with the beating of its heart. Could he really go through with this, he wondered — drain the blood, the life-giving liquid, from this magnificent animal? It hadn't escaped him that his Patronus had been a stag, just as his father's was. Was that why he seemed able to command this deer to do his bidding?

Ron was giving the deer a hungry look. He was unconsciously breathing deeply, his mouth open. Harry could see that two of his teeth were lengthening, turning into fangs. Harry touched his own teeth with his tongue, found them beginning to lengthen as well. He looked Ron in the eye. "Do you want to?"

Ron looked indecisive for a moment, but finally nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I do, Harry." Harry gestured toward the deer, and Ron leaped forward, grabbing it around the neck and sinking his fangs into the creature. It began to leap but Ron held it down, pushing it over on its side as he continued to drain the blood from its body.

Harry watched Ron feed with a mixture of revulsion and envy. Ron seemed oblivious to everything except the blood he was sucking from the deer's neck. Harry could smell the rich sweetness of its blood — not as desirable as human blood, yet it still made his teeth lengthen. How much could Ron drink, he wondered — would he drain the animal dry? Harry hoped not.

At last Ron pulled away from the deer's neck, his mouth and cheeks dripping with its blood. "D'you want some?" He asked, a bit sheepishly. "I mean, it's sort of your dinner — you caught it, after all…" Ron turned away, wiping the blood from his face and licking it off his hands.

Harry looked down at the deer; its one visible eye watched him as he slowly leaned over and put his mouth against the wound in its neck. He began drinking, surprised and pleased at the flavor of the blood. It was quite delicious. Harry drank until he felt the animal's heart flutter and stop, then stood up slowly. The deer was dead. He had killed it, him and Ron. Harry licked his lips.

Ron's face was now clear of blood, but he had a look of desperation about him. "I never thought it would taste so good," he whispered, horrified. "What have we become, Harry?"

"Vampires," Harry said, dully. "I've _told_ you already. We're going to use these powers to stop Voldemort."

"How?" Ron wanted to know. "What're we gonna do, walk up an' bite him on the _neck_?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "The other vampires have some kind of plan — I hope."

"You hope?" Ron's voice went shrill for a moment. "_You hope_? Why'd they need two of us, then?"

"They thought I'd want you to help me," Harry said, without thinking. A moment later he realized what he'd said. Ron was looking at him in shock. "Ron, I didn't tell anyone to do this to —"

In a flash, Ron had run forward and grabbed Harry by his robes. "To be your bloody HELP? Are you mental? Why would you let _anyone_ DO this to me — or YOU for that matter? It's my bloody life, isn't it?"

"I didn't WANT them to Make you!" Harry yelled, grasping Ron's wrists. "It was out of my hands! Ron, get _off_ me!" Harry pushed Ron away. As he did so, he found himself rise into the air. In a few moments he was floating ten feet above the ground as Ron looked up at him, openmouthed.

"You can fly? How're you _doing_ that?" Ron shouted.

"I don't know!" Harry shouted back. "It's like being on a broomstick, but without the broom!" As soon as he thought of landing he floated back down to the ground.

"Can I do that?" Ron asked, their argument forgotten. He tried to lift off the ground but found himself unable to do so. "Damn!" he muttered, looking at Harry enviously. "Must be all that unicorn blood you had!" He folded his arms across his chest, looking mutinous. "I think I need to get some of that, too."

"Ron, I don't _know_!" Harry said again. "We can talk to von Necros about it!"

"Like he's going to tell us the truth!" Ron argued. "Isn't he the one who turned us into vampires in the first place?"

"As if you haven't been enjoying it," a new voice intruded. Sanguini stepped into the small clearing with Harry and Ron. He regarded both of them levelly. "I see you've been trying out your new powers," he said, in a dry tone, then turned to Harry. "Your memorial service was held today at your school. A great many of your fellow students were present, as well as Scrimgeour and several Ministry higher-ups."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked.

"I was there," Sanguini replied. "I played the role of your corpse, with the aid of Polyjuice Potion and some of your hairs. Dumbledore thought it would be a convincing touch to let everyone actually see you before your burial. I've just returned to the castle."

"How'd you find us?" Ron demanded. "Were you following us?"

"It wasn't that hard to find you," Sanguini replied, in a bored tone. "You're practically tearing the forest down with the racket you're making. The Master would be most displeased if he knew what you two were doing right now."

"Oh?" Ron sounded unimpressed. "And just where is your 'Master' right now, off having someone for lunch?"

"If you must know, he was called away to an emergency meeting of the Grand Coven," Sanguini sniffed. "They are having second thoughts about the wisdom of this plan of his."

Harry suddenly went on alert. "What does _that_ mean?"

"It means that they might consider it too risky to have you infiltrate Voldemort's headquarters and kill him," Sanguini replied.

"It's a bit late for that, anyway," Harry pointed out. "Ron and I are already vampires!

The half-vampire shrugged. "You are expendable enough, both being newly-Made, despite the trouble the Master went to when he turned you, Harry Potter."

Harry scowled; were they really _that_ unimportant in the vampires' plans?

"Of course," Sanguini continued, "I have no direct information, one way or another — this is simply my opinion."

"Don't you already have vampires talking to Voldemort's men?" Harry asked. "That's what von Necros told me."

Sanguini nodded. "Vampires like me — half-vamps. Voldemort does not fear us because we seem weak, compared to wizards."

"So you're not like us?" Ron asked, his curiosity piqued.

"No," Sanguini said. "We are alive — I'm sure you can hear my heart beating," he pointed out. Both Harry and Ron nodded. "We can walk in daylight, though we are weakened by it. We are stronger and faster than humans, but not by much — perhaps five or six times as strong. We live longer than humans, but we are not immortal — a half-vamp can survive to perhaps 150 years before dying of old age. We are somewhat resistant to iron and steel weapons, but wooden ones can kill us. A stake through the heart, for example. Voldemort will have no use for us after he takes over the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts."

"Is that what his plans are?" Harry asked, sharply. "Why doesn't this Grand Coven want us to go in and stop him?"

"They believe we risk exposing their existence to the Wizarding world," Sanguini answered. "Some half-vampires believe that as long as the existence of full vampires is kept secret, they will be kept in their half-living, half-dead status forever. They believe that by exposing the full vampires to the Wizarding world, they will be able to secure more rights for themselves."

Ron suddenly laughed. "What's funny?" Harry wanted to know.

"Can you see what Hermione would do with this?" Ron was howling now. "She'd come up with another S.P.E.W. — for vampires this time!"

"What is this S.P.E.W.?" Sanguini looked confused by the term.

"Never mind," Harry said hastily, wishing Ron would get a hold of himself. His emotions were all over the place since waking up this evening.

"Who is Hermione, then?" Sanguini wondered. "Someone like that lovely young blonde you were with at Slughorn's Christmas party, perhaps?"

"No, that was —" Harry cut himself off; there was no good reason to give Sanguini her name.

"Luna, wasn't it?" Ron helpfully supplied, and Harry tossed him a smoking glare.

"Ah," Sanguini smiled. "The young lady who helped my Master procure some unicorn blood." Ron looked interested at this news.

"D'you think she could get some more for me?" he asked, eagerly.

"It may be moot," Sanguini waved away the suggestion. "The Grand Coven may decide your services are no longer required."

"And then what?" Ron asked. "Do you turn us back into normal humans?"

"Once you are Made," Sanguini smiled, showing his teeth. "There is no returning to your former humanity, not without — well, it is impossible, in any case."

"Wait — without _what_?" Harry pressed.

Sanguini gave him an appraising look. "If you must know," he replied, "vampires can be returned to normal if the one who Made them is destroyed."

"So if von Necros is destroyed," Harry stated, for clarification, "Ron and I will become normal again?"

Sanguini smirked at them. "Unless you have killed and tasted human blood," he added. "At the rate you two are progressing, however, you will have your first taste before long, I think.

"Now come," the half-vampire gestured back the way they had come. "We must return to the castle, to await the Master's return. He will want to discuss the Grand Coven's decision with you, I am sure."

Sanguini led the way out of the forest and around to the main entrance of the castle. During the walk back, Harry was thinking furiously about what to do if the Grand Coven no longer wanted them. It sounded like they would be destroyed in order to keep the vampire secret society safe from the Wizarding world. It also sounded as though Sanguini had little real respect for him and Ron, contrary to what he'd said on the courtyard balcony back at Christmas. He and Ron might have to get out of here fast. But what could he do about Ron — his friend had nowhere near the amount of vampiric power Harry had. If only he could get ahold of some more unicorn blood; _that_ might help Ron become more powerful! But unicorns were best approached by young women, and as far as Harry knew, the only unicorns he knew of at…Hogwarts.

An idea formed in Harry's mind — a crazy, outlandish idea, but he might be able to pull it off! First things first, however —

"Sanguini," Harry said to the half-vampire, who was still leading the way back to the castle's main entrance.

"Patience, Harry," Sanguini said, without turning around. "We will be inside the castle in moments."

"I know," Harry said. "_Look at me_," he commanded.

The half-vampire stiffened. "That will not work on me, Potter," he muttered, fixing his eyes deliberately on the ground. "I am loyal to my Master."

"I don't doubt it," Harry said, his eyes boring into the back of Sanguini's head. "But your Master Made me — his power is also _my_ power. Now, _LOOK AT ME_."

Sanguini slowly, reluctantly turned around to face Harry. "You — you c-cannot do this," he spoke haltingly, as if fighting Harry's control. Ron was watching tensely, trying to fathom what Harry was doing.

"_I can command you_," Harry spoke slowly, deliberately. "_You will obey me_." Sanguini nodded.

"I will obey you," he acknowledged.

"_Tell us everything you know about vampires like von Necros, and myself_."


	7. Back to School Special

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Seven  
>"<strong>Back-to-School Special"<strong>

Updated December 12, 2011

**A/N: A little behind on this chapter, my computer was giving me fits over the weekend. **

Harry was flying north, flying faster than he ever imagined he could, even when he'd used brooms. The wind in his face seemed not to bother him at all, and he had to make impressive time if he was to accomplish his objective.

Sanguini, under Harry's influence, had told him and Ron everything he knew about the abilities full vampires had. Harry had already learned that he could mesmerize half-vampires with his voice; Sanguini had acquiesced to his commands, though Harry believed it was partly due to the blood he drank from von Necros — if Sanguini had been any other vampire's assistant, he might not have been able to hypnotize him. Afterwards, Harry told the half-vampire to forget everything he'd told Harry and Ron.

They had also figured out that vampires like von Necros (and now Harry as well) were capable of flight, and that Harry had instinctively invoked that ability during his argument with Ron. It was exhilarating for Harry to find himself soaring among the clouds, flying faster than the top speed of a Firebolt. The ability would come in handy, especially since he could no longer use a broom to fly, or Apparate, since he had become a vampire.

Sanguini had described other abilities Master vampires possessed: they were stronger and faster than non-Masters; that was why Harry could outrun and outpower Ron, even though they had been Made by the same vamp — the unicorn blood both he and von Necros had drank, along with the blood von Necros had taken and returned to Harry, had greatly enhanced his abilities. He awakened earlier than many vampires, even before sunset, and could stay awake past sunrise if he was not in direct sunlight. His ability to summon the deer was an additional power he'd gained, probably because his Patronus had been a stag. Sanguini also said that many Masters could summon and control other supernatural humanoid creatures such as werewolves, or even banshees and centaurs in some cases.

Harry could hear the thoughts of others, though he had not yet gotten close enough to try that on anyone other than Ron or Sanguini, and Ron's thoughts had been muddled, nearly incoherent when he'd first awakened. He'd read enough of Sanguini's thoughts to know that the half-vampire was telling the truth about his enhanced abilities. He was about to put that to the test, where he was going now.

Back to Hogwarts.

He and Ron needed an edge against the Grand Coven, in case they decided not to continue with the plan for Harry to infiltrate the group of vampires (really, half-vampires) that Voldemort was negotiating with to join his side of the coming war with Wizarding Britain. Harry needed Ron to be as powerful as Harry was, so they could both escape, if need be. To do that, he needed more unicorn blood.

The problem was, Harry couldn't just walk into the Forbidden Forest, find a unicorn, and persuade it to give up some of its blood to him. Unicorns were not trusting of most wizards — they responded more favorably to young women, especially those who were acting on their own; the unicorn could presumably tell whether a young woman was Imperiused or otherwise influenced by someone else to act on their behalf. That meant that Harry was going to have to convince someone to walk into the Forbidden Forest of her own free will. And the only person he trusted to trust _him_, in his current state, was Hermione Granger.

As much as Harry wanted to see Hermione again, to talk to her and tell her what had happened to him and Ron, he was afraid that she would not react well to them becoming a vampire, even if it had been against their will. He couldn't really blame her if she did — _he_ would not react well if he found out she'd become a vampire, however it had happened. But he had no choice, really — he needed her help.

Harry allowed himself to drop out of the cloud cover, to ascertain his location. His vampiric vision allowed him to pick out Hogwarts in the distance, perched on the cliffs overlooking the lake he'd dived into during the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, two years earlier. He'd half-expected to find only a deserted ruin, seeing as his magical ability was now nil, but evidently he was now the equivalent of a Squib — unable to perform magic but still able to see through magical protections and illusions designed to affect Muggles.

The next question was, what would happen when he tried to fly over the school grounds, or the school itself. If the magical protections on the school considered him a Dark creature, he would be repelled, unable to approach. But he was able to swoop down, landing lightly on the roof of Gryffindor tower without any problem. The hardest part would be contacting Hermione. If he could still use the Marauders Map that would be a doss, but without his wand there was no way for him to activate it, even if his magic was still working. He would have to locate Hermione on his own.

It would not be very easy. He could hear the random thoughts of students inside the school, but it was difficult to estimate where in the school they were. He did not hear any thoughts that could be Hermione's — she was probably asleep, this early in the morning. He could not actually control a human unless he'd taken blood from them; or in the case of Sanguini, he shared blood that had been taken from that person, which von Necros had evidently done, in spite of his claim that he hadn't drunk human blood in years.

At least getting into Gryffindor Tower was not difficult — it was easy to cut a small hole in one of the windows using his fingernails, which were now quite hard, and open it, allowing himself to slip inside.

The common room was empty, as expected at this hour. Harry's plan at this point was simple: he would go up the staircase to the girls' dormitories, looking carefully in each one until he found Hermione. He would bring her back down to the common room, awaken her, and explain his need to her. He was pretty sure Hermione would not refuse to help him, once she got over the shock of seeing him alive; he and Ron were her closest friends, he believed she would always help them, whatever the circumstances.

However, as he approached the staircase, a problem arose. He could not force himself to enter the staircase, no matter how hard he tried! What could be causing this mental block he seemed to have? When he was alive, it was perfectly possible for him to step onto the staircase, although an enchantment would cause the stairs to flatten into a slippery ramp, preventing any male students from going up to the girls' dorm rooms. What was happening now?  
>At length he recalled one of the quirks of being a vampire that Sanguini had mentioned. A vampire could not enter a place of residence without being invited in. It did not apply to places of business, however, so Harry had expected no problem at Hogwarts. Dormitory rooms must be considered the personal residences of the students, however, which is why Harry found himself unable to approach. This was going to complicate things considerably, Harry realized.<p>

The Fat Lady's portrait began to swing open. Harry immediately moved back into a darkened corner, making himself completely still and silent — another vampiric ability that Sanguini had mentioned. Through the open portrait hole stepped — Hermione, followed by Dean Thomas. _What were they doing out so late_? Harry wondered.

"Thanks for helping me out tonight, Hermione," Dean was saying, as the portrait swung shut behind them. "I never realized there was so much prefects had to do, especially nighttime patrol duty." Which was not exactly true, Harry saw in Dean's thoughts; Ron had complained about patrol duty several times to him.

"Professor McGonagall made the right choice in selecting you, Dean," Hermione assured him. "I'm sure we'll work well together."

"Thanks, Hermione," Dean grinned. His expression then sobered. "I'm glad to see you're handling Ron and Harry's, er, passing so well."

Hermione nodded. "Thanks," she murmured. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed between them. "Well…" she finally said. "I suppose we should both turn in — morning will be here before we know it."

"Right," Dean agreed. He stared at her a long moment, then turned and walked to the staircase for the boys' dorms. "Good night, Hermione." Harry remained motionless, though he'd sensed Dean had been thinking of making some kind of move on her, but had realized that it was too soon for that.

"Night," Hermione said, as Dean disappeared up the stair well. She didn't move for some time — just stood there immobile, as Harry watched her silently from the shadows. Harry listened for her thoughts, but all he got was a jumble of imagines with Ron, her and himself from over the past few years. She was thinking of the three of them. Hermione eventually let out a long, slow sigh and moved toward the girls' staircase.

As she started up the staircase, Harry stepped from the shadows. "Hermione," he said, in a quiet, almost inaudible voice. Hermione stopped but didn't turn around; instead, she looked up, as if uncertain she had heard anything. At last she turned, letting her eyes sweep slowly across the common room, like she hardly dared believe Harry could have spoken to her. Her eyes finally fell on him, and they widened incredulously.

"Harry?" she whispered, moving back down to the common room and walking slowly toward him. "Am I — am I dreaming?"

"No," Harry said, softly. "It's me…"

Hermione was still moving slowly toward him, her hand extended. Her fingers touched his chest, lingering there a moment, before she suddenly lunged forward, embracing him tightly. "Harry — oh my God! Harry! You're ALIVE!" she gasped in his ear. "What happened? Where were you? Where's Ron?"

Harry embraced her back. Her body was so warm against his — he could feel the warm, inviting blood coursing through her. Her heart was practically pounding in his ears, so excited was she to see him once again. Her neck was only inches from his mouth, a neck that practically begged him to bite it, so tempting was its promise of sustenance and power.

With an effort, Harry pulled back from her. "I'm o-okay," he lied. "Ron couldn't be here, but he's okay, too."

"But —" Hermione put a hand against his cheek, then on his forehead. "Harry, you're so pale, and cold! You feel almost frozen! How did you get here — did you travel by broom? It must be freezing outside, even if it's not raining tonight! Come over to the fire —"

"Hermione," Harry stopped her with a finger to her lips. "I need to tell you some things, okay? You have to promise you won't be fussed."

Hermione's expression went from concern to taut anxiety. "Harry, they said you were _dead_! I'm _already_ _fussed_! But you're back now — what could you tell me now that would freak me out even _more_?"

"Oh, you might be surprised," Harry muttered. He pointed to two plush chairs near the fire. "Let's sit down, and I'll explain. I have a _big_ favor to ask you."

Looking more anxious than ever, Hermione followed Harry over to the chairs, then sat facing him silently, waiting for him to speak. Not knowing how else to approach telling her, Harry decided to try and be funny. "Do you want the good news first, or the bad news?"

Hermione grimaced. "Harry, just spit it out, please!"

Harry shrugged; he'd tried. "Okay then. Ron and I aren't dead — not exactly."

"Well _that's_ reassuring," Hermione retorted, making it clear that his words didn't really make her feel that way. "So you're saying you're not _exactly_ dead, then, is that right?"

"Well, yeah…" Harry stammered.

"Is that the good news or the bad news?"

"Um, the good news…"

"Great," Hermione snorted. "So what's the _bad_ news?"

"Well, we're — Ron and I, that is — we're, um, vampires…"

Hermione stared at him, incredulous. "You're joking. Wait, is that why you're so pale? But this could be one of Fred and George's jokes! Harry, that's _not_ funny, do you hear me?" She was becoming more and more agitated as she talked, and Harry could not get a word in edgewise to stop her.

"You didn't fake Ron's death _too_, did you? How could you be so cruel to the Weasleys, after all they've done for you?" Her thoughts were hard to hear because of her ranting, but Harry knew she had convinced herself that what she was thinking was true — it was better than believing something even more horrible had happened to him and Ron.

Harry wanted to stop her, to command her to be quiet and listen to him, but he did not want to risk having her mesmerized state noticed when she tried to convince a unicorn to give her blood. He finally put his hands up, stopping her diatribe.

"Hermione, the truth is, we were turned to vampires against our will. The reasons for it are too complicated to explain right now, and I still have that big favor to ask of you."

"What favor?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Harry suspiciously. She reached up and angrily bared her neck. "Do you need some of my blood? Is that why you're here, then? You want to be like one of those tacky gothic book vampires and turn all your friends to vampires so you won't be alone? Well, be my guest —"

"It's not that," Harry said quickly. Her attitude, while not entirely unexpected, was making him feel awful about asking what he needed from her. "I — I need you to get some unicorn blood for me."

"_What_?" Hermione sat back in her chair, clearly stunned by his request. "You said Firenze told you that someone taking unicorn blood would be horribly cursed!"

Firenze was the centaur that had rescued Harry from Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest during their first year at Hogwarts. "I got it wrong, then — it's only if you _kill_ a unicorn to drink its blood. If you get the unicorn to give up its blood willingly, there's no curse."

"Why would a unicorn give up its blood willingly?" Hermione sounded skeptical about the idea.

"_I_ don't know — for the greater good, maybe," Harry replied quickly. "I've already drank some. Now I need some for Ron, to increase his vampiric abilities to match mine, in case we need to — in case we need them."

"You want Ron to drink unicorn blood?" Hermione repeated slowly. "To become more of a vampire, like you… Harry, forgive me, but that sounds completely mental."

"I know," Harry agreed, reluctantly. "But I swear it's true, Hermione!"

A wry, sad expression came over Hermione's face. "And you should already know that I believe you," she told him, quietly. "I'll do everything I can to help you."

"I hope it will be enough," Harry answered. "But we have to get started now, if I'm going to make it back before the dawn comes."

Hermione stood, turning toward the portrait hole. "Then we'd better get started."

"One other thing," Harry said, standing as well. "We have to make sure that nobody but you sees me — not any of the students or staff, not the pictures on the castle walls, not Peeves, and not any of the ghosts."

"That's going to be hard," Hermione frowned.

"Maybe not," Harry said, looking up at the window he'd come into the common room through. "D'you think you can make it down to the Entrance Hall without getting stopped by Filch or any of the teachers?"

Hermione looked uncertain. "Maybe," she said, "if I can avoid Mrs. Norris."

Harry grimaced. If that cat caught sight of her Filch would know about it and be after her straightaway. What could she — an idea suddenly struck him.

"My Invisibility Cloak is up in my trunk!" he remembered. "You can use it to get to the Entrance Hall!" He moved toward the boys' dorm room staircase, but found himself again unable to walk up it.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I can't go up there," Harry told her. "I have to be invited before I can go into someone's residence, and I think dorm rooms count as residences." He looked back at her. "Maybe you could invite me."

"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard of," Hermione said archly. "You've been up there hundreds of times!"

"Yeah, but I've _died_ since then!" Harry pointed out. "Just do it, okay?"

"Fine," Hermione looked skeptical, but said in a sarcastically formal tone, "Harry Potter, you have my permission to enter the boy's dormitories."

Harry moved onto the first step. Nothing seemed to be holding him back. "That did it," he told her. "I'll be back in a minute."

He moved silently up the stairs, stopping at his dorm room and listening carefully. The breathing and heartbeats of everyone in the room indicated they were all asleep — even Dean, who'd come up only minutes earlier. He slipped into the room and moved quickly to the foot of his bed, where his trunk was.

The trunk was locked.

Harry swore to himself. Of course he'd _locked_ the damned thing! He could probably tear it open, as strong as he was, but he didn't want to arouse anyone's suspicions. He could get Hermione up here to open it… but he didn't want to risk her being caught out of bounds at this time of night. And in some vague way, he didn't feel like letting her get any closer to Dean than she had to. What else was left?

After a moment, he moved over to where Neville was sleeping. Standing over the bed, he whispered, just loud enough for the round-faced boy to hear, "_Neville_."

Neville's eyes popped open. "Harry?" he whispered in surprise.

"_Neville, listen to me_," Harry commanded in a whisper. "_This is a dream_…"

Surprisingly, Neville sat up, frowning at him. "No it's not!" he said, speaking loudly. "Harry, you're _alive_...aaah…"

Harry had done the only thing he could think of — he bit Neville on the neck, remembering that he needed to drink the blood of a person before he could control them. He took several mouthfuls of Neville's blood before he laid him back on his bed. Two puncture marks were on Neville's neck; remembering what von Necros had told him, Harry spit onto his fingers and rubbed the red-tinged saliva onto Neville's wounds. They closed up almost immediately.

"_Neville_," Harry tried again. "_You will do as I say, do you understand_?" Neville nodded.

Relieved, Harry told him to get up and go over to his trunk, bringing his wand with him. Once he was there, Harry told him, "_Use the spell _AlohomoraVoldemort," this being the spell and password to unlock his trunk. After Neville did so, Harry rummaged through its contents until he found his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map. Taking them both, along with a spare book bag from his trunk, he told Neville, "_Go back to sleep, and forget that you were ever awake tonight_." Neville nodded again and padded back to bed, slipping beneath the covers and beginning to snore almost immediately. Harry hurried back down to the common room.

"Here," he told Hermione, handing her the items. "You remember how to use the Marauder's Map?"

Hermione nodded. "Good," Harry said. "If you need anything else from my trunk, the unlocking spell is _Alohomora Voldemort_."

"Clever," Hermione nodded. "Not many people will say Voldemort's name out loud."

"I'll meet you just outside, then," Harry told her, "and we'll head to the Forbidden Forest from there.

And with that they each went their separate ways — Hermione out the portrait hole, Harry back through the window, climbing back up to the roof. From there he ran lightly across the top of the castle, easily leaping from rooftop to rooftop, until he came to the roof of the Entrance Hall. From there he floated down to the steps of the castle, melding into the shadows until he heard a heartbeat move into the Entrance Hall. The main doors opened a few moments later and Hermione slipped outside, then began stuffing the Cloak into the book bag. "Filch almost caught me," she whispered breathlessly Harry as they trotted down the castle steps. "Mrs. Norris. I lost him, but my shoes made too much noise — he knows a student is out of bounds!"

"We'll just have to hope he doesn't decide to wake up any of the staff," Harry whispered back, at the base of the steps. "If I know Filch, he'll want to catch the student himself, so he can go to their Head of House. Filch loves embarrassing them that way."

They hurried around to the east side of the castle, where a few hundred yards separated it from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry could sense Hermione's anxiety increasing as they neared the forest. "Oh, I wish Professor Grubbly-Plank had explained _how_ she caught that unicorn!" she fretted.

"We'll think of something," Harry muttered, uncertainly. "Luna was able to do it —" he immediately wished he hadn't said that, for Hermione stopped dead in her tracks.

"What do you mean, 'Luna was able to do it?'" she demanded. "You had Luna Lovegood get unicorn blood for you?"

"No — no — no," Harry said quickly. "The vampire that Made me had her get it for him, he told me!" They were right at the edge of the Forbidden Forest; Harry tried to guide her inside. But Hermione refused to move, staring at him crossly.

"Why didn't you get _her_ to help you, then?" she asked, pointedly. "If you know she's already done it?"

"I wanted to keep her out of this," Harry explained, desperately. "She doesn't need to be involved —"

"Oh, so you're protecting _her_, then?" Hermione's voice was beginning to turn shrill.

"No, I'm not!" Harry replied, more loudly than he'd intended. Why was Hermione acting this way? "I trust you loads more than I do her — not that she's untrustworthy, mind you, but…"

Hermione's expression had softened some. "You trust me?"

"Of course I do!" Harry said, earnestly. "You, Ron and I have been through a lot these past six years, haven't we?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, we have," she agreed. "Look, Harry… I'm sorry, it was just a surprise, hearing that Luna's done this already. Doesn't that mean that she knows you're still alive, though?"

Harry pondered that question. "I dunno," he said at last. "Von Necros didn't tell me what he told her that convinced her to help him."

"Von Necros," Hermione repeated. "That's the vampire that made you and Ron into vampires?"

Harry nodded. "Why did he do it, then?" Hermione asked. "What's he get out of you being a vampire? Or Ron, for that matter?"

"There was a plan for me to infiltrate Voldemort's headquarters as a vampire," Harry explained. "The Wizarding world doesn't know about real vampires — the ones like Sanguini aren't really vampires, they're half-vampires. Real vampires have a lot more abilities than the half ones do. Von Necros thinks that Voldemort will turn on the vampires once he's taken over the Ministry and Hogwarts."

"So _that's_ what his plan is?" Hermione sounded aghast. "Harry, we have to stop him from doing that!"

"I agree," Harry nodded grimly. He pointed into the Forbidden Forest. "That's why I need the unicorn blood — so Ron and I can stop him, somehow…" Hermione nodded and they resumed walking. He decided not to tell her that getting the unicorn blood wasn't part of the "plan" — it was something he had to do _in_ _spite_ of the plan, in case the Grand Coven decided he and Ron were expendable.

Hermione took out her wand. "We can use a revealment spell to locate a unicorn. The spell is "_Acornus Revelio_" — you cast it on your side and I'll cast it on mine." When Harry didn't move to pull out his own wand she stared at him quizzically. "Well?"

"Hermione, I —" It was painful for Harry to say, but — "When I became a vampire, I lost my magical abilities," he admitted.

"Oh no!" Hermione looked stricken by this news. "How do they expect you to defeat Voldemort?"

"I have a lot of new abilities that Voldemort doesn't know about," Harry told her.

"Does Ron have these abilities, too?" Hermione asked.

"He will once he drinks the unicorn blood," Harry nodded. "That's why I'm trying to get some for him."

"Okay," Hermione said. She began casting the spell nonverbally as they made their way into the forest. She kept shaking her head each time; apparently unicorns were more rare in the Forbidden Forest than Harry had thought. At last, however, she nodded after casting the spell. She looked at Harry.

"Found one," she breathed, putting away her wand. "It won't feel threatened if my wand's not out," she told him. Harry handed her two empty vials; they were not very large, able to hold only a small amount of blood each. "Wish me luck," she said, then crept slowly forward, moving through the trees until she was all but lost from view, even to Harry's heightened senses.

Harry began to inch forward as well, moving as silently as his heightened reflexes and senses would allow him to. He could hear Hermione's heartbeat pounding in her chest; there was also another heartbeat, one he was barely able to discern, near her. The unicorn's, he guessed. Harry kept moving forward, slowly, until he caught sight of her and the magnificent silver-white beast — it was fairly glowing, even in the dim moonlight that penetrated to the floor of the forest. She was speaking softly to it, explaining her need to it. The unicorn pawed the ground restlessly, moving its head both up and down and from side-to-side; was it agreeing with her or not?

_Please_, Harry thought to himself, watching the unicorn intently. _Please say yes. Please say yes_. He concentrated for a moment on the sun's position; it was near enough to dawn that he would have barely enough time to get Hermione back into Hogwarts and fly back to von Necros' castle before it came up. If he was caught out in direct sunlight —

Hermione's thought were filled with a sudden happiness, and the unicorn reached around with its horn, opening a small wound in its side. She pressed the open tops of the vials against the unicorn's flank. Harry could smell the silvery-blue fluid as it flowed into each vial. When they were nearly full, Hermione pressed a cork firmly into the top of each vial, then backed away from the magical creature, murmuring her thanks. The unicorn seemed to nod its head, then turned and trotted into the forest, where Harry lost it among the trees despite the brilliance of its coat and horn.

"Got it!" Hermione whispered exuberantly as soon as she caught sight of Harry. She held out the vials of silvery-blue fluid.

"Brilliant, Hermione!" Harry cheered, taking them from her. "Now we just need to get you back in the castle, and me back to von Necros' castle, and I can use these to increase Ron's vampiric abilities."

They made their way back to the front entrance of the school, moving up the staircase to the large double doors that led to the Entrance Hall. As Harry reached for one of the doors, however, he heard Mr. Filch's voice ring out, "Stop! Identify yourself!"

Harry froze. He glanced toward Hermione, who had a look of horror on her face. It was simple to read the uppermost thought in her head: How did Filch catch us out? "Harry," she whispered. "It must've been — I nearly ran into him as I was leaving the common room earlier, he may have told Filch, or Snape — I think he figured out it was —"

Harry put up a hand gesturing for her to be silent. He had heard another heartbeat in the Entrance Hall. "It is I, Professor Severus Snape," came that all-too-familiar voice, one that despite all the hatred Harry had for it, he was nevertheless overjoyed to hear at this moment. "What, may I ask, are you doing here in the Entrance Hall at this time of the morning, Filch?"

"Thought I heard a student out of bed a while ago," Filch wheezed, his breath rattling in his chest. "Seems like they came through the Entrance Hall — I thought I'd wait and see if they came back this way."

"Did it not occur to you," Snape replied, in a deadly monotone, "that said hypothetical student might have chosen a different return path, to avoid you?"

"What are they saying?" Hermione whispered. Without his enhanced senses, Harry realized, their voice could hardly be more than unintelligible mumblings. He shook his head, gesturing again for quiet.

Filch grunted. "Students aren't all that smart," he muttered. "They'll take whatever way is easiest for them."

"Point well taken," Harry's eyes widened — was Snape actually conceding something? "However, you have been here for — how long?"

"'Bout twenty-five minutes," Filch admitted, reluctantly.

"If no student has reappeared by now, I believe it is safe to assume you were outsmarted," Snape went on, silkily. _There_ was the Snape he knew and loathed, Harry thought.

"What're _you_ up for, Professor?" Filch asked, sounding stung by Snape's remark.

"I have a short journey to make, at the Headmaster's request," Snape said. Harry heard the sound of a cloak being thrown over someone's shoulder, then footsteps moving toward the door.

He glanced around quickly. There was no place for them to hide! Once Snape flung upon the castle doors they would be discovered!

"What —" Hermione whispered, seeing the panic that had suddenly gripped Harry. Instead of answering, Harry put his hands under her shoulders and _leaped_ — straight up, towards the roof of the Entrance Hall. His power of flight kicked in, adding enough momentum to take them over the top of the Entrance Hall roof. They managed to land more or less soundlessly, though Hermione's shoes made a soft crunching sound as they touched down.

Hermione's hand was over her chest; she looked absolutely flabbergasted by what Harry had just done. He put a finger over his lips, signaling for silence. Below them, he could hear Filch's voice, "When will you be back, Professor?" the caretaker asked.

"It should be around sunrise," Snape answered, in a clipped tone. "Do not inform anyone else on the staff — Dumbledore wants this kept between him and myself." Harry leaned far enough forward to watch Snape walk toward the entrance to the school grounds — the gates with winged boars on either side. He tapped the chain wrapped around the front gates, which promptly loosened, allowing them to swing open. A few steps beyond the gates and the DADA teacher suddenly Disapparated.

"You can't go through the Entrance Hall," Harry told Hermione. "Filch will be waiting for you, despite what Snape told him — he's pretty stubborn about trying to catch students."

"So what do we do?" Hermione asked. "I have to get back to my dorm room before anyone else wakes up."

An idea had come to Harry, but he wasn't sure what Hermione would think of it. "You could get back in the common room the same way I did earlier — through the window."

"Harry," Hermione shook her head skeptically. "I can't fly like you, you know. Even with a broom I'm pretty spotty — if we even _had_ a broom. _And_," she added , almost apologetically, "it seems like you were just barely able to make it to the roof, carrying me. I don't know how we're going to make to the window in Gryffindor Tower — that was what you were thinking, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted, a bit chagrinned that Hermione was already ahead of him. "But there is something you can do that I can't — you can put a Levitation Charm on yourself. That will let me carry you up to the window."

Hermione cocked her head, considering the idea. "Yes, that could work," she agreed. "Okay," she nodded. "Let's try it." She took out her wand and pointed it toward herself as she spoke the spell. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" She wobbled a bit, then floated slowly upward.

"Super," Harry said, catching her around the waist. "Just concentrate on that spell — I'll do the rest!" He ran lightly over the rooftops of Hogwarts, back along the way he'd traveled to get to the Entrance Hall. With Hermione lighter than a feather in his arms, it was no problem to make the leaps he'd made before, until at last Gryffindor Tower loomed above him. His final leap carried him toward the common room window, and he caught the ledge, glad that he hadn't shut the window completely. With his free arm he boosted Hermione up so her torso rested on the windowsill. "Can you float down to the common room?" he asked her in a hushed voice, and received a mumbled reply that sounded like "I hope so!" Her legs slipped through the window, and there was no immediate crash; she must've been successful. Harry pulled himself up through the window, then floated down to the common room floor beside Hermione.

"Well, that was interesting," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, then glanced at the girls' staircase. "I — I'd better get up to my room, she said distractedly, looking at Harry carefully.

"Yeah, me too," Harry said. "I've got to get back before dawn…"

"You know," Hermione said, still staring at him. "I never noticed until now just how — well, handsome you are, Harry."

"Excuse me?" Harry took a step back, startled by Hermione's comment. Was she kidding him? He was an undead, disgusting vampire! "I'm not — I'm not…"

"Yes, you are!" Hermione insisted, stepping closer to him, her lips drawn to his. The fragrance of her blood, so close and intoxicating, was making his fangs extend. It all but _called_ to him, making his head pound with bloodlust.

Harry leaned back, trying to figure out how to avoid hurting her. Why was she acting this way? Those giggling girls at Slughorn's party had seemed drawn to Sanguini, and he was only half-vampire. Was there something about vamps than excited the humans around them? Even Harry had felt a strange attraction when around von Necros — was that how they attracted their victims, by arousing them? "Harry, I — I want to go with you, back to the castle where you're staying!" Hermione said throatily. Her eyes gazed at him with undisguised lust.

"No!" Harry shook his head violently. "_Forget about it_!" He turned and leaped upward, catching the windowsill ten feet above him, and pulled himself outside. Without even bothering to close the window, he leaped into the sky, accelerating to full speed toward von Necros' castle.

**=ooo=**

The close call he'd had with Hermione had shaken Harry badly. A part of him had no desire to harm her, not even for just a taste of her warm, sweet blood, as he'd done with Neville — that had been necessary, to keep Neville from exposing him to the other students in his dorm. But another part had been mightily tempted to drain her to the point of death, to take as much of her blood as he could and still leave her alive. As long as he didn't kill her, what would be the harm?

There were others at Hogwarts who richly deserved death, that part of Harry reminded himself. Pansy Parkinson, Draco's girlfriend whom he'd watched cozying up with Draco on the trip from King's Cross last fall, at the start of term. There was also Millicent Bulstrode, who'd caused Hermine some problems over the years, and Daphne Greengrass, who was… well, she was Slytherin, so there must be something bad in her, part of Harry insisted.

Harry shook his head, feeling overwhelmed by the conflicting thoughts he was having. If he and Ron even had a _chance_ to avoid being vampires for the rest of eternity, they would have to avoid killing humans at all costs, until they could find a way to get rid of von Necros — assuming Sanguini had spoken the truth, that killing the vampire who Made them would let them revert back to human.

At least he now had the unicorn blood. Harry sighed with relief. He and Ron would each drink a vial; then Harry would drink Ron's blood, allowing it to flow through his veins before Ron drank from him in turn. That would give Ron even more powerful blood than he had now, with an accompanying increase in strength, speed, and other vampiric abilities such as Sanguini had revealed to them. Then, if von Necros returned with word that they were no longer needed in the plan to defeat Voldemort, he and Ron could escape, and…

And do what? Harry wondered. He hadn't quite gotten to that part of the plan, he realized. They couldn't very well take their coffins along with them, if worst came to worst. Even if they did, somehow, where would they put them? Harry smiled grimly at the thought of showing up at his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's house in Little Whinging. It might be fun to watch that vein in his uncle's temple throb until it burst — at least then Harry wouldn't be guilty of killing him (well, not directly, anyway). But, as amusing as the idea was, Harry knew it was unrealistic. They would have to stay at a Wizarding family's house, and the best bet for that would be — the Burrow.

As leery as the Weasleys might be about Dark creatures, Harry was sure he and Ron could convince them that they weren't really evil. As long as they didn't bite anyone, that is…

Presently von Necros' castle came into view, far below him. Harry let himself drop out of the sky, landing a few dozen yards from the castle entrance, where von Necros, Ron and he had appeared after their Portkey trip from the Ottery St. Catchpole graveyard.

The lawn in front of the castle's entrance was deserted. Harry frowned; he had left Ron and Sanguini here, a few hours earlier, telling Ron he would be back as soon as possible with the unicorn blood. Had von Necros returned before he could get back? Harry cursed at himself. If that was true, Ron could be in very serious danger right now!

Harry started toward the castle's front doors, but from within the castle he could hear footsteps approaching the entrance as well. Whoever it was, Harry did not want to be caught outside. He moved quickly around a nearby talus along the castle wall, hoping the widened base would hide his presence.

Harry listened as the footsteps moved away from the castle entrance. He moved slowly forward along the talus, hoping to catch sight of whomever was leaving. Just as the person came into view, he suddenly Disapparated, giving Harry just a bare glance at a long, black robe and shoulder-length black, greasy hair.

Harry leaned back against the castle wall, his mouth open in disbelief. Could that have been — _Snape_? He had told Filch back at the school that he had an errand to run for Dumbledore, and Harry knew that Dumbledore was aware of both the existence of full vampires and that von Necros was one of them. What did Snape know about vampires? What did Snape know about _him_, and about Ron?

"Hello, Harry. You've been busy tonight."

Harry jerked, startled by the sudden appearance of von Necros next to him. The vampire was giving him an appraising look. He held out a pale, long-fingered hand. "Let's have the unicorn blood, please."

"What makes you think I've got unicorn blood?" Harry said, evasively.

Von Necros tapped his nose. "I can smell it, Harry. I daresay you could as well, if you weren't so distracted at the moment." He gestured again for Harry to give him the vials.

Reluctantly, Harry reached into his robes and brought out the two vials of blood. Von Necros looked carefully at each vial as he took them from Harry. "Nicely done," he murmured, examining the seal of each stopper. "The person that filled these vials did an excellent job — one of your friends, perhaps?"

Harry didn't answer, but an image came unbidden into his mind, and von Necros smiled. "Ah, Hermione Granger! Of course, I should have guessed that. Of your two best friends, she is clearly the smarter one."

"Ron's smart, too," Harry spoke up, defending his friend.

"Yes, in certain ways," von Necros conceded. "On subjects he enjoys, he can be quite knowledgeable. The trick is, keeping him interested." He gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we go inside? Ron and Sanguini are waiting for us there."

Harry followed von Necros into the Entrance Hall, where Ron and Sanguini were both waiting, standing facing the entrance. "I told them we would wait for you here," von Necros explained, gesturing toward them. "I thought I would tell all three of you at the same time what the Grand Coven's decision was, concerning out attempt to infiltrate the delegation sent to negotiate an alliance between Voldemort and the vampires."

Harry tensed. Von Necros had made no attempt to restrain him or Ron in any way — did that mean good news or bad? There was no way to read the vampire's expression. Sanguini's features were equally inscrutable. Ron looked equally tense — he had picked up on Harry's anxiety. If it came down to a fight, Harry was not at all sure he and Ron together could beat von Necros alone, much less both the vampire and the half-vamp.

"You look somewhat anxious, Harry," von Necros commented. "Worried about what the Grand Coven decided?"

"You can read my mind, can't you?" Harry pointed out. "I don't know what happens to Ron and me if the Grand Coven doesn't go through with their plan."

"Sanguini told me that they'd have no more use for us," Ron piped up. Harry wished he hadn't said that — now that fact was clear to everyone present.

Von Necros raised an eyebrow at Sanguini. "Working the youngblood into a case of the vapors, Sanguini?"

Sanguini looked down. "I apologize, Master."

"Well, one should never be afraid of knowledge, no matter how unpleasant it may be," von Necros observed. "Knowledge is power, after all."

"So what was their decision?" Harry blurted, tired of being kept on tenterhooks. "Are they going through with the plan or not?"

Von Necros shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry to say, Harry, the bad news is, they are not going to continue with the plan."


	8. Plan B From Translyvania

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Eight  
>"<strong>Plan B From Transylvania"<strong>

Updated December 24, 2011

"I'm sorry to say, Harry, the bad news is, they are not going to continue with the plan."

Harry and Ron shot each other a quick glance as von Necros finished speaking. That statement was their death sentence. They hadn't discussed this, hadn't really planned for this eventuality, but both of them sprang instinctively into action.

Harry, the faster, reached the door of the castle first and flung it open. He and Ron sprinted directly away from the castle; Harry glanced back to see if von Necros or Sanguini were following. They had appeared at the door, but were not giving chase. Were they going to allow him and Ron to escape? Harry wondered. Why weren't they giving chase?

The river that meandered around the castle was coming up fast. There was no bridge, and Ron was heavier than Hermione, but Harry figured he could fly long enough while carrying Ron to get them over it. He caught Ron's arm and shouted, "Slow down at the river, I'll carry you over!" Ron nodded and they both skidded to a halt just as they reached the bank.

Ron looked up and down the river. "Pretty stupid not to build a bridge over this river, isn't it?" he asked, rhetorically.

"Maybe von Necros doesn't want people from the town to come calling," Harry guessed. He looked back at the castle. Von Necros and Sanguini had left the castle and were walking toward them, but they appeared to be in no hurry.

Ron looked back at the pair as well. "Why haven't they tried to stop us?" he wondered. "Couldn't von Necros make us follow his commands, the way you did with Sanguini?"

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "I'm not inclined to stay and ask him — are you?"

"Guess not," Ron agreed. "Let's go, then!"

Just as he had held onto Hermione, Harry grabbed Ron beneath his shoulders and began to leap over the river, intending to fly as far as he could with Ron's weight. But as they crossed the bank of the river Harry felt his limbs go weak, and he could not support Ron's weight. The two of them tumbled in the water and everything went black.

When Harry regained consciousness he found himself and Ron lying on the bank of the river, soaking wet, with von Necros and Sanguini standing over them.

"Welcome back," von Necros intoned, dryly.

Ron suddenly sat straight up. "What happened?" he blurted out.

"You tried to cross running water," Sanguini spoke up. "Full vampires cannot cross running or open water without some type of conveyance."

"Why?" Harry asked, puzzled. Such a weakness seemed to make no sense.

Von Necros made a most unusual gesture, for him: he shrugged. "If you ever find out, let me know. It's one of those unexplainable things about being a vampire, like having to be invited into someone's residence."

Harry looked back at the river. The last thing he remembered was dropping Ron, then falling into the water. The next he knew they were up on the river bank. "How did we get out of the river?"

"I had Sanguini fish you out," von Necros explained. "Otherwise you would have remained at the bottom of the river, paralyzed, forever. Or, at least until the sun came up and killed you."

"Oh," Harry said. "Well, don't take this wrong — I mean, I'm not complaining, you understand, but — why didn't you leave us there? Doesn't the Grand Coven want us dead?"

"They do," von Necros said. He offered his hand to Harry, then hoisted him to his feet. "However, I do _not_."

"But —"

"Before we continue this conversation, Harry," von Necros interrupted him. "Why don't we all go back inside the castle and get you some dry clothes, and we can discuss my plans."

Inside the castle, after Harry and Ron changed into dry clothes (von Necros provided slacks and pullover shirts along with trainers for them) they joined the vampire and his assistant in the castle's parlor, a spacious room with a well-stoked fireplace, area rugs and wall tapestries, furnished with chairs and divans from several centuries.

On their way to the parlor, Ron was puzzling over what von Necros had told them. "I don't get why he told us the other vampires wanted us dead, if he didn't plan on following their orders."

"He was probably testing us," Harry replied. It was the only thing that made sense, really. Harry was more than used to being tested; it seemed like his entire time at Hogwarts was just a preparation for his confrontation with Voldemort, and that Dumbledore had been pulling his strings all that time.

They entered the sitting room where von Necros and Sanguini were sitting, a decanter of blood wine on a small table in front of them. "If you're thirsty," von Necros said, indicating the blood wine as they were seated. "Being newly-Made, you may be able to tolerate it more than I can, and Sanguini has no problem imbibing," he added, dryly, and Sanguini managed not to look abashed.

Ron reached for a glass, and Harry took one, for politeness, but after a discrete sniff his nose told him it would not do for him, either. He wanted to get down to business. "So why don't you want us dead, Baron?"

"Quite direct," von Necros smiled. "Good — I'm not much on idle banter either, Harry. The Grand Coven has decided that the risk of Voldemort discovering you infiltrating the vampire delegation to negotiate an alliance with his Death Eaters is too great. They prefer a more subtle approach."

"Why didn't you just tell us this straightaway then?" Ron asked, sipping at the blood wine. "Why did you let us think you were going to kill us?"

"I was actually trying to be funny," von Necros sighed. "A bad news, good news sort of thing. Sanguini tells me I botched the joke. However, it was amusing watching the two of your try to cross over the river in your attempt to flee."

"Yeah, that was loads of fun," Harry said, sarcastically. "I wondered why you didn't try to stop us." He looked at Sanguini. "I wonder why you didn't tell us that we couldn't cross running water. I ordered you to tell us everything you knew about vampire strengths and weaknesses."

"You did," Sanguini agreed, drinking the last of his goblet of blood wine. He poured himself another goblet of the red liquid. "But my Master ordered me to tell you only certain things."

"But I ordered you, too," Harry objected. "You did as I commanded —" a sudden thought hit him. "Unless —"

"Unless he was never yours to command," von Necros finished his thought. "Sanguini is _my_ assistant, Harry — not yours. The fact that my blood is in him _and_ you does not allow you to control him.

"In any event," von Necros went on, dismissing the subject, "our concern now is how to go about defeating Voldemort without the Grand Coven's assistance."

"You're going to defy the Grand Coven?" Harry asked.

"That is not so unbelievable, is it?" von Necros replied. "Your headmaster routinely defies the Ministry, does he not?"

"That's different," Harry said automatically, though he couldn't really come up with a reason _why_ it was different.

"Not really," von Necros disagreed, voicing Harry's unspoken thought. "Dumbledore set up an entire group of people whose sole function was to stop Voldemort in his bid for power and immortality. He did it back in the 70's and he's done it again for the past two years. The Ministry was mostly unaware of the Order during the first War with Voldemort, and it has been mistrustful of Dumbledore since they learned of its existence.

"I do not share the Grand Coven's fear of retaliation from Voldemort, should he learn of my plans to stop him. If he wins this time, vampire-kind will be doomed under his rule, so win or lose, the end result is the same for me. However, I am quite used to winning my battles, so I expect this one will be no different. The only problem is how to make sure you can get close enough to Voldemort to take him out."

"You don't have a plan yet?" Harry wanted to know. "What about the original plan, to get me and Ron in with the vampires talking to Voldemort?"

"The vampires do not get to meet with Voldemort directly," Sanguini explained. "They meet with his inner circle of Death Eaters — people like Dolohov, the Lestrange woman, and Severus Snape."

Harry and Ron looked at one another. "_Snape_?" Harry exclaimed. "I thought I saw him leaving the castle a while ago! How's he involved in this?"

"Severus Snape is a man of many talents," von Necros replied. "He is Dumbledore's spy among the Death Eaters, and he is also _my_ spy as well."

Ron looked at Harry. "Well, that explains why he always looks so pale, doesn't it? He's gotta be a half-vampire, like Sanguini!"

Sanguini laughed. "Don't be so thoughtless, Ron — Snape is still fully human. He could not move about so easily in Wizarding society if he were half-vampire."

"But—" Ron began.

"Think about it," von Necros interrupted. "Voldemort would recognize him as half-vampire immediately, if that's what he was. His value to us would be nil, as Voldemort would immediately murder him. I doubt even Dumbledore would fully trust him if he thought there was anything going on between Snape and myself."

"Dumbledore doesn't _know_?" Harry blurted.

"No," von Necros confirmed. "Snape has been ordered to keep our relationship secret, even from Dumbledore."

"But I heard Snape say he had something to do for Dumbledore when he left the castle earlier," Harry protested. "It sounded like Dumbledore knew —"

"I'm sure Snape said that so Mr. Filch would not be suspicious," von Necros suggested. "It is, after all, that man's nature to be distrustful of almost everyone, even Dumbledore, but he does as the headmaster says because Dumbledore gave him a job when no other wizard would. The only person Filch ever seemed to get along with was Dolores Umbridge, because she indulged his fantasy about returning to the days of corporal punishments at Hogwarts. I suppose that's why he also gets along so well with Madam Pince."

Harry closed his eyes, shaking his head. "That's _way_ too much information, thanks." Ron shuddered as well. "Okay, so Snape's your man, and I guess it doesn't make sense for us to talk to Death Eaters if he's among them — he'd recognize us straightaway."

"Right," von Necros agreed. "But while the Grand Coven lacks imagination beyond their personal survival, I'm sure we'll be able to come up with a plan to get you near Voldemort — assuming I can keep you safe long enough."

"Wait a minute," Ron looked worried. "What does _that_ mean? Aren't we safe here _now_?"

"For a little while, yes," von Necros said. "But the Grand Coven is bound to send some Elders out to make certain I've 'handled' your situation properly. They'll want to see your remains, and they will be much more difficult to convince you're dead than the Wizarding community."

Ron suddenly yawned hugely. "It's nearly sunrise," von Necros said. Harry nodded; he had sensed its nearness at the same moment the vampire spoke. "You both will be safe at least until tonight — we'll discuss our options after sunset."

Sanguini stood. "If you'll follow me," he said. "I'll escort you to your caskets."

Harry and Ron both rose as well. This might be an elaborate ruse to get them in their coffins then kill them while they were helpless, but they could have left him and Ron in the river to await the sunrise with much less effort. He believed, therefore, that von Necros was being on the level with them.

They followed the half-vampire to the room where their coffins were stored. Ron was so tired by then he could barely lift the lid of his casket. Harry and Sanguini helped him get inside, then Harry climbed into his own coffin, to await the sunset and von Necros' plans for them.

At breakfast on the morning of March the fifth, Ginny found Hermione sitting by herself at the Gryffindor table, holding a piece of toast she had barely taken a bite from. The _Daily Prophet_ was on the table in front of her; its front page proclaiming what everyone in Wizarding Britain undoubtedly knew by now:

**Boy-Who-Lived Dead  
><strong>**Under Mysterious Circumstances  
><strong>By Special Correspondent  
>Rita Skeeter<p>

London (WNS) Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, died 4 March 1997 at  
>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under circumstances which<br>have yet to be explained by the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

A memorial service was held later that same day, attended by most of  
>the student body and several Ministry officials. The body was removed<br>immediately afterwards for burial in Potter's birth town of Godric's Hollow.

Potter, who survived an attack by You-Know-Who on Halloween night in  
>1981, dropped out of Wizarding society until he began attending ogwarts<br>in 1991. Two years ago, in 1995, he began insisting that You-Know-Who  
>had returned, a claim that was only recently accepted by the Ministry<br>for Magic.

A Ministry official who preferred to remain anonymous was quoted as  
>saying, Fudge couldn't accept that Dumbledore was correct, although the<br>old boy has not been right much lately. I suppose Dumbledore can't  
>see much past his own nose these days."<p>

Dumbledore himself had no comment about Potter's death. Deputy  
>Headmistress Minerva McGonagall released this statement:<p>

"Harry Potter's death comes as a great shock to  
>the entire school. We believe his death was due to<br>poisoned mead — we do not know how the mead  
>became poisoned, only that it was delivered to the<br>school under circumstances that were not clearly  
>understood. Our sympathies and best wishes<br>go out to all of Harry's friends and family.  
>He will be missed."<p>

When questioned directly about the poisoned mead, Dumbledore had this to  
>say to this reporter: "The matter has come under investigation, and I have no<br>doubt that the persons responsible will be identified. Until then, however, it is  
>best if I make no further comment on the matter."<p>

If Dumbledore is covering something up, as this reporter feels is likely, then the Minis-  
>(Continued on page 3)<p>

"Hermione," Ginny said softly, but Hermione seemed not to hear. She continued to stare at the front page of the paper, oblivious to students staring at her from all four House tables. "_Hermione_!"

Hermione blinked; her eyes finally focused on the youngest Weasley. "Oh. Sorry," she said, straightening up. "I was just…thinking."

Ginny sat down across from her. "What did you think of Harry's memorial service yesterday? I couldn't find you afterwards."

"Oh, I…" Hermione fell silent for several seconds, apparently lost in thought. "I got a note to talk to McGonagall afterwards. She wanted to know who I thought should take over as prefect in Ron's place."

"That seems a bit premature," Ginny frowned. "Couldn't she wait at least until the next day?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "It's better to work in teams, especially in the early morning rotations, and Gryffindor's turn was coming up that night. I suggested Dean Thomas, and she agreed."

"Dean told me," Ginny managed a small smile. "He's so excited about being a prefect!"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. She was staring at the paper again. "Yes, we worked well together. I think we'll make a good pair — of prefects, I mean."

"I knew what you meant," Ginny laughed. Her expression turned serious. "I just wish Dean and I made a better pair."

Hermione blinked a few times. "What do you mean?" she asked. "I thought you two were getting along fine."

Ginny waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I suppose, but he's beginning to get on my nerves lately. He's getting awfully familiar, thinks he can tell me what to do or not do — plus, he's always got to know where I am or who I'm talking to, and — oh-oh, speak of the devil —" she lowered her voice as they saw Dean, further down the Gryffindor table, stand and walk their way. "You'll see what I mean."

"Hi Ginny!" Dean called, as he neared them. "Hello, Hermione." He stopped next to Ginny, looking down at her. "What's up, love?"

"Just seeing how Hermione's doing," Ginny replied, coolly. She gave Hermione a _see-what-I-told-you_ look. "She's had a hard time dealing with Ron and Harry's deaths," she added, looking sadly at both of them.

Dean's expression fell as well. "We all have, Gin. It's hard to deal with just one death, let alone two — and both of them my dorm mates! Seamus and Neville are pretty torn up over it as well."

"I've talked to both of them, too," Ginny nodded. "It's so hard, knowing we'll never see either of them again."

Hermione began rocking back and forth in her seat. "It is, it is," she said, staring down into her lap, where she'd placed both her hands. "It's very hard," she added. Ginny and Dean both watched her curiously. She finally looked up at them. "Well," Hermione said. "I hope that, wherever they are, Harry and Ron are happy."

"Yeah…so — so do I," Dean said, uncertainly. "Well, it's about time for classes to begin. I'll see you both later." He moved away, collecting his book bag from the table where he'd left it and walking out of the Great Hall.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, after Dean was out of earshot. "Did Dean or I say something that upset you?"

"No — no!" Hermione denied quickly. "I…just…" She looked Ginny square in the eye. "Can I meet you after dinner tonight, in the Library? There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Sure," Ginny said. Something was clearly making Hermione anxious, and Ginny was beginning to feel the same way. Whatever she wanted to talk about, it must be important if they were meeting in the Library and not the Gryffindor common room. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Okay, good," Hermione nodded, relieved. She began gathering up her things for class, hoping that she would still feel the same way when it came time to talk to Ginny later that night. She'd had the strangest dream about Harry, but it was beginning to feel more and more real to her as time went by, more like something that had actually happened rather than something she'd imagined late one night. Perhaps between the two of them they could figure it out.

That evening just after dinner, Ginny found Hermione in a secluded corner of the Library with a stack of books around her. Ginny glanced at some of the titles — most of them were about vampires and vampire history. "Extra credit assignment?" she asked, sitting down next to her friend. "I thought vampires were covered in fourth year Care of Magical Creatures."

"They were," Hermione agreed, putting down the book she was reading, _Facts and Fiction about Vampires in Europe and Around the World_, by Serk du Phreke. "This isn't for any class," she said in a hushed tone. She didn't want to attract Madam Pince's attention; the librarian did not like it when students pulled more books from the shelves than they could read in one sitting. "I had a dream about Harry the other night."

Ginny leaned forward, interested. "What was it?"

"It's really fuzzy," Hermione replied. "But I think Harry was a vampire in my dream." Ginny raised an eyebrow. "He asked me to meet him outside the entrance of the castle — I remember hiding from Mr. Filch. Then we went to the Forbidden Forest. What?"

Ginny had a smirk on her face. "I'm just trying to imagine why Harry would take you to the Forbidden Forest if he was a vampire," she said, knowingly. "Did he bite you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, it wasn't that," she said, trying to remember the details of her dream. "He wanted me to get something for him. I remember handing him two vials of — something, I'm not sure what. The only other thing I remember is ending up in the common room with him, trying to convince him to let me help him, but he jumped up to the common room window and flew away. Then I woke up, in bed."

"Is that all the dream?"

"I don't think so." Hermione was trying hard to remember more details. "I think Harry told me to forget about him. I don't know why he'd say that."

"Well, it's just a dream," Ginny said, gently. "It's strange that you'd have one like _that_, but we're all missing him."

"That's kind of the strange thing about it," Hermione pointed out. "I had the impression that I was really talking to Harry, that it wasn't a dream at all, but something that was really happening."

"Dreams always seem real to the person dreaming them," Ginny observed. "Until you wake up and realize it was a dream. It would be brilliant if Harry was still alive somehow — Ron, too — but that's just part of missing them."

"Then there's this," Hermione said, picking up a book bag. She opened it up, pulling out a bit of silvery-gray material. "When I woke up this morning I found this bag on my bed. Look what's inside!" she said, as Ginny felt the material. "It's Harry's Invisibility Cloak! I also found the Marauder's Map in there as well! I don't have any idea how they got there!"

Ginny looked puzzled. "Maybe… Harry put them there before the night he died…"

"Maybe." But Hermione still wasn't convinced. "Last year Harry told me that he was getting private lessons with Dumbledore — he said that Professor Dumbledore was showing him memories of different people in a Pensieve."

Ginny looked surprised — she had not heard about Harry's lessons with Dumbledore.

"I wonder if the professor would let me look at my dream in the Pensieve, so I could see all of its details," Hermione continued. "You're supposed to be able to see every detail of your memories in a Pensieve, even things you might not have noticed when you actually experienced them."

"That would be useful," Ginny agreed. "But — how are you going to get Dumbledore to agree to that. I thought teaching Harry was a special case."

"Yeah," Hermione looked downcast at that thought. She perked up almost immediately, however. "Well, since the dream was about Harry, and since it seemed so real to me, maybe he'd agree to view it with me."

"Maybe." Ginny was silent a moment. "He does seem to give you, Harry, and Ron special consideration. I wondered why he made Ron a prefect and not Harry, though."

"I think he realized that Harry had more important things to work on than being a prefect," Hermione replied. "And it really helped Ron's self-esteem — you know his brothers were all prefects or Quidditch captains — Bill got twelve Outstandings on his O.W.L.s — I think it was Dumbledore's way of making Ron feel special, too."

"So you're going to talk to Dumbledore about using the Pensieve?" Ginny asked. "I thought anyone wanting to talk to the headmaster had to go through Professor McGonagall."

"Harry didn't," Hermione recalled. "If he got a note from Dumbledore it would usually include the password to his office. Harry said the password was 'Acid Pops' — at least that's what it was the first time he visited Dumbledore."

"He would have changed it by now," Ginny theorized. "Knowing what it was back in September can't help you now."

"I know," Hermione agreed, despondently. "But… Harry has mentioned some of the passwords Professor Dumbledore has used. Last year he mentioned 'Fizzing Whizbees,' and the year before that 'Cockroach Clusters.' He seems to like using sweets as passwords."

Ginny saw where this was going. "If we can find out what sweets he likes, we might be able to get past the gargoyle and into his office!"

"Yes!" Hermione agreed, now enthusiastic. But her expression fell once again. "The only flaw in the solution is, I've never seen anything written about the headmaster's love of sweets, only hobbies like tenpin bowling and chamber music. Apparently he doesn't give out information about liking candy."

"Maybe we could ask Professor McGonagall," Ginny suggested. "She's bound to know what he likes. We could say we want to buy him something as a token of appreciation."

"McGonagall would probably see through that straightaway," Hermione objected. "We can't ask her. But I remember Professor Flitwick giving Harry some sugar mice last year after his interview with Rita Skeeter was published in the Quibbler — maybe he'll know what Dumbledore likes. And we can tell him we're getting gifts for staff members, so he won't object to telling us what Dumbledore likes if he believes we're getting something for him as well."

Ginny chuckled. "I didn't think you could be that devious, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "I have my moments."

It was nearly curfew by the time Hermione and Ginny left Professor Flitwick's office, a list of gift ideas for the teaching staff in hand. As two of Flitwick's best Charms students, they'd had no difficulty convincing the diminutive professor to come up with gift ideas for the other professors. The list of potential gifts for Dumbledore certainly told a tale of the headmaster's sweet tooth.

_Acid Pops_  
><em>Fizzing Whizbees<em>  
><em>Cockroach Clusters<em>  
><em>Lemon Drops<em>  
><em>Jelly Slugs<em>  
><em>Every-Flavor Beans<em>  
><em>Pepper Imps<em>  
><em>Peppermint Humbugs<em>

By unspoken agreement they were heading toward the Headmaster's office, to try out the passwords.

"What if none of these are right?" Ginny asked, looking over the list. "Do we just start guessing?"

"I don't want to just guess," Hermione shook her brown-haired head. "We'll figure something out tomorrow, if none of these are the right one."

Soon they were on the seventh floor, standing before the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office.

"We can probably rule out several of these straightaway," Hermione said. "He probably would not repeat a password he's already used."

"Right. We know the first three were used by Dumbledore in the past," Ginny agreed. She handed Hermione the list. "D'you want to do the honors?"

Hermione nodded. She looked at the gargoyle. "Lemon Drops."

The gargoyle did not move.

"Well, not to worry," Hermione said. "Jelly Slugs, then."

The gargoyle did not move.

"I'm beginning to worry," Ginny quipped.

"Oh be quiet," Hermione snapped. "You're as bad as Ron is — I mean, _was_…"

Hermione looked horrified that she'd made such an ungracious remark, but Ginny just gave her a look and said, "That was a bit of a low blow."

"Sorry…" Hermione went to the next sweet on the list. "Every-Flavor Beans."

The gargoyle did not move.

"Not many more choices on the list," Hermione muttered. "Um, Pepper Imps?"

The gargoyle leaped to one side, and the wall behind it split open, revealing a spiral stone staircase. Hermione and Ginny both beamed at one another, then stepped onto the staircase, which began moving upward of its own accord, taking them up to the top of the tower, where they found a large polished door.

Both of them regarded the door for several moments. Finally, Ginny whispered uncertainly, "What do you think we should do next?"

"Knocking on the door would be a splendid start," a voice inside announced cheerfully. A bit sheepishly, Hermione reached out and knocked three times on the door.

"Please come in," Dumbledore's voice replied. "Ah, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley!" he exclaimed pleasantly, once they had entered. "To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?"

"I have a rather unusual request, sir," Hermione said. "I'm not sure what you'll think of it."

"I'm certain that I will be most interested to hear it, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied, smiling at her. "However, before you ask, will you indulge my curiosity and tell me how you learned the password to my office?"

Hermione explained about the Headmaster's tendency to use the names of sweets as passwords, and how she and Ginny obtained the list of his favorites by questioning Professor Flitwick. Dumbledore nodded, absently stroking his beard, then applauded softly when she was finished.

"Well done, Miss Granger, well done!" he beamed. "You and Miss Weasley may both take ten points for Gryffindor for your ingenuity. I daresay I will have to expand my list of passwords to avoid being too predictable in the future.

"Now that we've disposed of that mystery," he continued. "On to your request, Miss Granger."

"I had a dream about Harry the night after he…passed," Hermione began. "I only remember bits and pieces of it — him taking me to the Forbidden Forest, me giving him two vials afterwards, then being in the Gryffindor common room and him leaping through the window and flying away. I remember believing in the dream that he was a vampire." She steeled herself for the next part and asked, "I was wondering if it would be possible for me, or us, to view my memory in your Pensieve, so that I could see all the details of the dream."

"An interesting request," Dumbledore said, softly. "Why would you wish to see details, if you believe it to be simply a dream?"

"That's just it, sir," Hermione replied. "I'm not sure it was simply a dream. The parts of it I remember seem much more vivid than most of my dreams do."

"It is not difficult to mistake some dreams as being more real than others," Dumbledore observed. "Especially when dreaming about someone you are close to."

"But why would I think Harry was a vampire?" Hermione asked, doubt beginning to seep into her resolve. "I've never had occasion to think of him as other than he is. Or was…"

"The mind often plays tricks on us," Dumbledore told her, kindly. "You imagined Harry in a way that would let him be with us, even after he was gone. You are a good friend, Miss Granger. I do not think we need delve into your innermost thoughts to understand that."

Hermione nodded, looking away from the Headmaster. She knew this was his way of turning down her request. "I'm — I'm sorry we bothered you, Professor," she said, apologetically.

"It was no bother, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied, his tone gentle. "I am always here if you need me. In the future, however," he added, his eyes twinkling, "you should make an appointment with Professor McGonagall to see me."

Hermione suddenly looked up at the Headmaster. "Oh! That reminds me, sir — do you still need to know about the memory Harry was trying to get for you, the one where Professor Slughorn talked to Tom Riddle about —"

"Did Harry talk to you about that?" Dumbledore interrupted.

"Y-yes, he told me," Hermione said, realizing now that Dumbledore didn't want her to use the word "Horcrux" in front of anyone else.

"Are you volunteering to take up Harry's assignment?" Dumbledore asked, looking at her shrewdly.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "It seems important enough for you to need it, and Professor Slughorn seems to like me almost as much as he did Harry — I think I can find a way to get him to tell me."

"Horace will be most unwilling to part with the memory. Harry told you of the one he provided to me some time ago, did he not? Where he attempted to alter his own memories because he seems ashamed of his real ones? I daresay he will be even more wary if you broach the subject with him."

"I think I should try," Hermione said, now adamant. "I'm sure Harry would want me to, if he were in my place."

"Very well," Dumbledore agreed. "If you do procure Horace's memory, please come see me immediately. Oh," he added. "I will be changing the password to my office to 'toffee éclair.'" He put a finger on his crooked nose, looking at both of them. "Mum's the word, you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Hermione and Ginny agreed excitedly. They both stood. "I'll be back with it as soon as possible," Hermione promised, and they exited the study.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him thoughtfully. From the shadows behind him a voice spoke. "A very interesting development, Albus. Apparently Harry did not completely remove the memories of her obtaining the unicorn blood for him." Von Necros stepped into the lamplight, its light flickering across his pale features.

"She is a good friend to Harry," Dumbledore replied, wearily. "I do not believe Harry wanted to remove her memories. I wonder what was said between them in the Gryffindor common room that made him leave so abruptly?"

"Perhaps she found herself attracted to him," von Necros suggested. "He may have unconsciously invoked his power to charm humans after obtaining the unicorn blood. As you say, they are good friends."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore conceded. "It is best if we do not pursue the matter, however. Neither Miss Granger nor Miss Weasley should ever learn that Harry and Ron are now vampires — I see no reason to dispel their notion that she merely experienced a dream."

Dumbledore turned to look at von Necros. "I must ask that you forbid Harry and Ron from attempting any further contact with her, or anyone else at this school. Once a secret like that gets out, it is difficult to bottle it up once again, especially in a school this size."

"I will do so," von Necros said, dryly. "Although, at the moment, I have more pressing problems concerning them. As I was about to tell you before we were interrupted, the Grand Coven has rejected the plan to infiltrate Harry into the vampires discussing an alliance with Voldemort's Death Eaters. They have ordered me to dispose of Harry and the Weasley boy."

Dumbledore looked unsettled by that news. "I take it you disagree with the Coven's ruling," he said, insightfully. "Otherwise you would not be here discussing Harry with me."

"Quite true," von Necros agreed. "I would like to find some other way for Harry to get close to Voldemort. However, the snag in my near-term plans is that I expect the Grand Coven to send some of its members to my castle, to verify that the boys have been terminated."

"I see," Dumbledore pondered. "They will not be deceived by a corpse resembling Harry or Ron, I believe."

"Correct," von Necros confirmed. "I do not have many options here, Albus. If they remain in my castle much longer they will be found by the Coven, and then both they, and I, will be destroyed.

"However, if they were to escape from my castle before the Coven members arrive, I can place the blame on Sanguini, and promise to punish him severely for his failure to keep them there. The Coven will not doubt that I would punish him, so they will not require verification."

"Where would Harry and Ron go?" Dumbledore wondered. "There are not that many places they can stay without another vampire becoming aware of their presence. Unless you intend for them to go to ground, literally, to avoid being found by the Coven."

"No," von Necros disagreed. "I need them where I can still contact them when I've formulated a plan for Voldemort's destruction. I was thinking that they might stay with Ron's parents, at the Burrow."

"That would not be advisable," Dumbledore disagreed. "I don't believe Molly could handle the trauma of seeing her youngest son turned into a vampire, and Harry is like another son to her. Arthur would take it quite hard as well. Neither of them are comfortable around vampires — it would be quite a strain on everyone."

"That does not leave us with many other options," von Necros muttered, trying to think of another solution.

"I do have one," Dumbledore offered. "They could stay here, at Hogwarts."

Von Necros smiled, amused. "That old Headmaster protectiveness is rearing its head again, Albus, though I think in this case it's misplaced. I know you want Harry and Ron to be safe, but do you really think you should subject them to an entire school full of red-blooded students, all full of tasty bodily fluids? I don't know how either of them would last more than a day or two before biting someone."

"There are animals in the Forbidden Forest they could prevail upon for blood," Dumbledore pointed out. "Also, a few years ago, there was a number of disturbances where students, and in one case one of the House ghosts, were petrified by seeing the reflected gaze of a Basilisk. Harry and Ron were able to determine where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, a secret room purportedly constructed by Salazar Slytherin, and the lair of the aforementioned Basilisk, was located."

Von Necros looked interested. "You've never mentioned this before, Albus. You've been keeping secrets from me."

"In this case the location was a secret hidden even to me," Dumbledore conceded. "Finding it required the ability to speak in Parseltongue, something not even I am capable of. Harry, however, can speak it, and was able to destroy the Basilisk before it could kill someone. The Chamber would be an ideal location for his and Ron's caskets."

"I admit Hogwarts would be a place the Coven would not be likely to search," von Necros said. "If you are willing to risk the potential danger of Harry or Ron feeding on your student body."

"I think both of them will be able to resist their base impulses," Dumbledore argued. "They both have many friends among the other students."

"They also have many enemies, do they not?" von Necros added. "That young Slytherin who's been giving you problems this year — Draco Malfoy is his name, I believe? Do you think Harry can keep his teeth out of the boy's neck?"

"Harry has a quite formidable will," Dumbledore remarked dryly. "As I'm sure you're aware, Amadeus."

"I am," von Necros agreed. "But Ron Weasley is not quite as headstrong as young Mr. Potter. He may decide to take a bite out of mischief, so to speak. However, if you are willing to take the risk of having them here at the school, I will bring them along later this evening.

"Also, if it's alright with you, I'll arrange to have Sanguini stay with them as well. He will be able to keep me appraised of their activities here at the school, and I will be able to communicate quickly with him, if need be."

"I have no objections," Dumbledore agreed. "I presume you take care of Sanguini's…dietary needs?"

Von Necros smiled indulgently. "Don't worry, Albus — Sanguini does not require blood to survive, though it does make him stronger. He will be able to feed from the Forbidden Forest along with Harry and Ron, if need be; in the meantime, he can eat anything your regular students are capable of eating, though we do not make that fact public knowledge in the Wizarding community.

"And speaking of blood, Albus…" von Necros gazed expectantly at Dumbledore, who turned and approached the cabinet where he kept his Pensieve. Taking out his wand, he tapped a smaller cabinet door along its bottom. The door flew open and the Headmaster removed a decanter filled with blood. He returned with it, placing it on the desk in front of the vampire.

"Here it is," Dumbledore said. "A pint…I will have Poppy administer a Blood-Replenishing potion in the morning. She believes I am suffering from simple anemia, just as you had her write Harry was."

Von Necros picked up the decanter, examining it with interest. He looked up at Dumbledore. "If you don't mind, Albus…"

Dumbledore nodded and produced his wand once again. Pointing at a small table where several crystal goblets rested on a silver tray, one of the goblets flew into his hand. He handed it to von Necros, who opened the decanter and pour a half-goblet of the red liquid. He held it under his nose for a moment. "As fragrant as ever, Albus. Cheers." Von Necros took a sip of the blood. "Mmm, there's something about a fine, old blood… I wonder if Harry would enjoy it as much as I do?"

"You were concerned only a few minutes ago that Harry would be most preoccupied with the large amount of young students here, and their blood," Dumbledore pointed out. "I would gladly give more of my blood to help him or Mr. Weasley, if it would further our cause."

"Harry would likely consider that equivalent to incest, Albus," von Necros shook his head. "I suggested it only in jest… just as, it seems, you were not completely serious when you suggested to Miss Granger that she could wrest the secrets of Voldemort's Horcruxes from Horace Slughorn."

"I thought it would distract her and Miss Weasley from her experience with Harry," Dumbledore said. "I very much doubt if they will succeed — Harry was the best chance we had for Horace, but I believe he lost whatever opportunity he had. We will do it your way now, Amadeus. I just hope you are able to concoct a plan that will bring us victory."

"I do too, Albus," von Necros agreed, his tone serious. He replaced the stopper in the decanter and placed it within the folds of his cloak. "I will return the decanter when empty," he said. "It does an excellent job of keeping your blood fresh and warm."

Dumbledore nodded absently. "As it was enchanted to do. May I expect you, Harry and Ron back here before dawn this morning?"

Von Necros nodded. "Your decanter still has the Portkey enchantment on it, does it not? It will return here to your study one minute after it has been emptied of blood?"

"Of course," Dumbledore muttered, tiredly. "I will rest until then — the loss of a pint of blood made me somewhat sleepy."

Von Necros bowed, then moved toward one of the study windows, which opened at his approach. He stepped up on the sill, then turned to say, "Until then, Albus" before leaping from the window into the night sky.

"Hide out? At _Hogwarts_?" Ron exclaimed, after von Necros described Dumbledore's suggestion to him, Harry, and Sanguini. "Are you mental?"

"Why would the professor suggest such a thing?" Harry was skeptical as well. "I'd think he'd want to protect the other students from _us_."

"I did point that out to him," von Necros said, seriously. "He seemed to think you would be able to handle the thirst you will feel. He suggested that you could spend the daylight hours in the Chamber of Secrets."

"The only way into the Chamber of Secrets is through Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, on the second floor of the school," Harry pointed out. "If you don't want anyone to know we're there, we can't ever let her see us, or she'll tell someone about it."

"Yeah, but who's going to believe her?" Ron wondered aloud. "I mean, she's always moaning about _something_. Saying she saw vampires in the sinks isn't going to make her sound like she actually saw something."

"In addition," von Necros added, "Like many of the ghosts at Hogwarts, she is bound to the location of her death."

"I've seen her in the prefects' bath," Harry said, then waved off Ron's inquiring look. "Never mind, I'll — tell you later. Anyway, the point is, she can move about the school."

"As can all the ghosts," von Necros agreed. "You will have to be careful when entering and leaving the Chamber."

"There's another problem," Harry went on. "You have to be able to speak Parseltongue to get into the Chamber. I'm the only one who can do that. Ron and Sanguini won't be able to get past the sink that hides the tube down to the Chamber. And I can't even speak Parseltongue unless I'm looking at a snake." Harry cleared his throat then spoke. "Open up," he said, giving the command to open the Chamber.

"English," Ron said.

"I have a potential solution for that," von Necros smiled, thinly. From the folds of his cloak he produced a picture of a snake. Look at this and try again."

Harry concentrated on the snake for several seconds. "_Open up_." The image of the snake moved, opening its mouth.

Ron nodded. "_That_ sounded like hissing."

"The image on this picture will obey Parseltongue commands as best it can," von Necros said, handing it to Harry. "Say it several more times," he suggested. "Ron, you listen carefully to what he says."

Harry repeated the phrase four more times, then stopped when the vampire held up his hand. "Now, Ron," von Necros said. "See if you can say what Harry said."

Ron looked a bit dubious but made the attempt. On his second try the image of the snake opened its mouth. "Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "I can speak Parseltongue!"

"Vampires have the ability to observe and mimic the talents and skills of others, including other vampires," von Necros told them. "It is useful for imitating the mannerisms and speech patterns of different localities across Britain and Europe."

"Can half-vampires do it?" Harry asked, looking at Sanguini.

"To some extent," Sanguini replied. "It takes us a little longer." Sure enough, when he tried to imitate Harry's Parseltongue, it took him four tries before the image of the snake moved.

Ron looked at Harry. "What do you think?" He sounded convinced that the plan was plausible. Harry wondered whether von Necros was influencing his thoughts.

"No, Harry, I am not," von Necros spoke up, voicing Harry's silent concern. "Albus and I do think this is more reasonable than having you hide at the Burrow, for example."

"Yeah, that's a _bad_ idea," Ron agreed. "Mum and Dad would probably freak if they had one son who was a vampire in their house, let alone two."

Harry dithered. He still didn't like the idea, given Hermione's reaction to him after getting Harry the unicorn blood. He looked at Ron. "We're going to have to make sure nobody in the school sees us, you know." Ron nodded. Harry turned to von Necros. "How long will we have to be there?"

"Until I can come up with a plan to get you near Voldemort, somehow," the vampire answered. "I'll also have to be aware of what the Grand Coven's plans are, so we can avoid anyone acting on their behalf as well."

"Well," Harry shook his head uncertainly. "I'm not really convinced, but I don't have a better idea. We can try it."

"Splendid," von Necros looked quite satisfied. He reached into his robe, retrieving two vials of silvery-blue liquid. "There's just one more thing to do before we travel to the school." He handed one of the vials to Ron. "If you'll drink this," he said, popping the top off his own vial. "We'll see about increasing your vampiric powers to something approaching Harry's."

Ron looked curiously at the vial, then at Harry. When Harry nodded encouragingly, Ron shrugged and took out his stopper as well. "Cheers," von Necros toasted, and he and Ron each drank.

"Whoa," Ron said, after a few moments, smacking his lips. "That tasted really, really good!"

"Now comes the interesting part." Von Necros stepped closer to Ron. "I'm going to drink some of your blood, then you're going to drink from me. The unicorn blood in our bodies will enhance the ability of our blood to comingle, giving you additional abilities. You should find that you're nearly a match for the powers that Harry has."

"Wait a minute," Ron was looking at Harry. "I thought we weren't going to drink human blood. Won't that make us Dark creatures?"

"You're not," Harry argued. "You're going to drink vampiric blood — I've done it already."

"You won't become Dark just by drinking human blood," von Necros explained. "Especially if it's freely offered. But if you forcibly take blood from someone, killing them, you become irrevocably Dark. Many vampires have turned Dark because they weren't careful about keeping themselves properly fed."

"We're not going to let that happen to us," Harry said, forcefully. "Ron, we both need to be as strong as we can if we're going to beat Voldemort."

Ron didn't look happy, but— "Right," he said. "What do I have to do?"

Von Necros took Ron's arm and bared his wrist, drawing a razor-sharp nail across it. Blood welled up in the wound, and the vampire began sucking on the wound while Ron looked on, a look of revulsion on his face. After a while Ron began to wobble, and Harry grabbed him as he began to fall. As soon as von Necros' mouth came away from Ron's wrist, the wound began to heal.

"Lay him on the floor," von Necros said. "It's his turn to feed."

Von Necros slashed his own wrist and presented it to Ron, who grabbed it and began eagerly feeding. After some time the vampire pulled his wrist away. It healed almost immediately. "Now," von Necros said, "give him a few moments, then help him up. We will see how he feels now."

Sanguini and Harry helped Ron to his feet. "All right there, Ron?" Harry asked, as they carefully let go of him. Ron was swaying slightly, but he seemed fully conscious.

Ron was looking around the room. "Whoa," he said once again. "Everything looks a lot more — I dunno, different, I guess. I can see a lot of details I never saw before. And the sounds…"

"Good," von Necros seemed satisfied. "Time to go, then." He walked over to a cabinet and brought out a decanter with a small amount of red fluid in it. Harry could tell it was blood by the smell. In fact — the smell seemed familiar, somehow, like he'd knew the person that blood had come from. Von Necros brought the decanter to a tall, thin table with a tray and goblets on it.

"Sanguini," he ordered. "Bring in Harry and Ron's caskets from the next room." As Sanguini left he told the two boys, "I had him bring them up from your room earlier this evening, while you were exploring the castle."

As Sanguini brought the caskets into the room, von Necros poured the last of the blood into a goblet. "When this decanter is emptied," he said, "ten minutes later it will Portkey us to Hogwarts, to the Headmaster's office. From there we will get them moved into the Chamber of Secrets, and your stay at Hogwarts will begin. Sanguini will stay there with you, so I can communicate quickly with you.

"I hope you both understand," he cautioned them. "Albus is taking a risk in allowing you to stay at the school. He believes both of you will be able to withstand the craving for human blood you are likely to experience there. I believe you can as well. You must remain dedicated to the task of destroying Voldemort one day. That is why all of this is happening." Both Harry and Ron nodded.

"Very good!" Von Necros smiled. The decanter glowed blue. "All right — put one finger on the bottle, the other hand on your caskets. We'll soon be at Hogwarts."

Harry, Ron and Sanguini all placed fingers on the decanter, along with von Necros, and a moment later the room was empty.


	9. Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Nine  
>"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts<strong>"<strong>

Updated January 6, 2012

"Not bad, as dorm rooms go," Ron idly noted, upon seeing the Chamber of Secrets for the first time. "A little dusty, maybe…"

They were standing at the far end of the Chamber, the entrance just behind them. Even though it was dimly lit, Harry had no problem seeing the entire room clearly. There were great stone pillars along each side, all rising up to support a stone ceiling that dripped greenish slime in places. In fact, a greenish hue seemed to fill the Chamber.

At the far end an enormous statue of Salazar Slytherin stood silently regarding them, with its ancient, monkey-like face and long, thin beard that reached almost to the bottom of the statue's robes. "I think that's going to have to go, though," Ron said, pointing.

He was pointing at the gigantic corpse of the Basilisk, left to rot after Harry had dispatched it four years earlier. The long, serpentine body had decomposed almost to the bone. "I suppose we should be happy our sense of smell is gone," Harry said, mildly.

"Speak for yourself," Sanguini spoke through a handkerchief he had hastily pulled from a coat pocket. "I can still smell it! It reeks!"

Ron was curiously examining the remains of the Basilisk. "You killed this with Gryffindor's Sword, eh?" he said, looking into the toothy mouth of the dead beast. "Yeah — I can see the hole you made in its skull. And one of these fangs is broken off — that must be the one that punctured your arm, right? You would have died right then if Fawkes hadn't been here to save you."

"Right," Harry agreed. "Plus, I saved Ginny from the Tom Riddle from the diary and she, you, me and Gilderoy Lockhart returned back to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with Fawkes' help." He said this for von Necros and Sanguini's benefit — Ron already knew the story, of course.

"I remember," Ron said. He suddenly grinned. "Hey, d'you remember Lockhart asking you if you lived here? Now you _do_!"

Harry snorted, remembering that day with some amusement and a measure of vindication. Lockhart had intended to erase their memories with Ron's wand, but it had been damaged at the beginning of the school year and it exploded when Lockhart tried to use it. The explosion had erased _his_ memories, the same thing he had done to other witches and wizards who'd told him their tales of adventure and heroism. Lockhart had represented those stories as his own in numerous books about werewolves, hags, banshees, trolls, and (of course) vampires.

"Ah, the Chamber of Secrets! How interesting, how very interesting!" These words came from Professor Dumbledore, who was suddenly standing behind them, next to von Necros. "I have always wanted to see this, ever since Harry described it four years ago."

Harry looked at the professor with raised eyebrows. "Professor, did _you_ come down through the drain in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom?"

"Oh, no, Harry — I'm much too old for that sort of thing," Dumbledore told him. I had Amadeus here bring along a trinket of mine —" he held up the image of a miniature troll, a paperweight. "I enchanted this to Portkey back to my office after five minutes. It will continue to travel back and forth between here and there every five minutes, which will allow you, Mr. Weasley, and Sanguini an alternate exit route from the Chamber. From there you may exit my office through one of the windows, to visit the Forbidden Forest for sustenance for the two of you."

"Sounds like a pretty good deal," Ron allowed.

"For the time being," von Necros conceded. "You should be wary, however, of any other 'humans' you find in the Forbidden Forest — once the Coven learns that you are no longer at my castle, they will take steps to find you."

"What are you going to tell them?" Harry asked, curiously.

"That you and Mr. Weasley somehow escaped earlier this evening after I locked you in your casket room," von Necros said. "I will tell them that Sanguini aided you then fled with you — another reason for him to remain here.

"They will have little reason to believe you are here, given Albus' tendency to vigorously protect his students from harm," von Necros estimated. "But eventually they will run out of other places to look, and will send a team here to investigate."

"A team of what? Vampire-Aurors?" Ron quipped.

"Very nearly," von Necros said, in all seriousness. "Some vampire Masters have unique powers that will aid them in searching for you. If you manage to see them before they see you, I advise you to get back into the Chamber as soon as possible, then destroy the Portkey so they cannot use it to follow you. There is almost no chance they will be able to follow you the other way — they would have to know how to speak the Parseltongue words that open up the entrance."

"But Sanguini and I learned how," Ron protested.

"With Harry's help," Dumbledore said. "There are very few Parselmouths in the world — the only known ones other than Harry, the Gaunts, have all died."

"I suppose we'll be safe, then, at least for a while," Harry said. "The only thing left to do is to get our caskets down here so we can sleep."

"I have already taken care of that, Harry," Dumbledore said. The headmaster stepped forward while reaching into the folds of his right sleeve, withdrawing three small objects. Harry could see that they were miniature versions of his and Ron's caskets, along with a very small four-poster bed. Dumbledore set them carefully on the floor of the Chamber, about ten feet apart, then stepped back and waved his wand. The two caskets and bed enlarged to full size, forming a row in front of the statue of Salazar Slytherin.

"I added a small plaque to each casket," Dumbledore mentioned. "Monogrammed with each of your initials." Sure enough, Harry could see a small gold plaque on the lid of each casket; one read "HJP" and the other "RBW." "It should, of course, be obvious who will be sleeping in the bed," Dumbledore added, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

Dumbledore reached into his robes, pulling out a pocket watch. Consulting it for a moment, he then put it away, announcing, "I believe it's time to take my leave of you, for now. Amadeus, would you care to join me or do you prefer to stay here awhile?"

"I believe I will come with, Albus," the vampire declared. "I will leave my servant and our young protégés to prepare for their first day here. The paperweight in Dumbledore's hand glowed blue at that moment and von Necros reached out to touch it.

"Hold on a second —" Harry began to say, but the headmaster and von Necros suddenly disappeared in a whirl of colors and wind. "Dammit. I was going to get the professor to remove that Basilisk corpse."

"We'll have to do something with it," Sanguini complained, still looking nauseated by the stench of the rotting remains. Perhaps we can put in one of these side drains, away from the main floor.

Harry and Ron looked at one another. "I guess we'd better get started, then," Harry said. Ron shrugged in agreement, and the two of them picked up the corpse and tossed it in a drain tube well away from where they would be sleeping.

"Thank you," Sanguini said. "That's better."

"Now what?" Ron asked, looking for something to wipe his hands on. He finally settled on the stone floor itself.

Harry consulted his internal clock. "We have a few hours before sunrise. Why don't we look around the place, see what we can find out about it. We didn't have much chance to do that, last time we were down here."

Ron nodded agreeably. "Later," he said to Sanguini, who had sat down on his bed, still waving away the stench of the Basilisk's corpse. He and Harry disappeared back through the entrance of the Chamber.

Sanguini sighed, wondering what he had done for the Master to punish him so severely with the task of chaperoning these two young vampires.

**=ooo=**

At the same time Harry and Ron were exploring the Chamber of Secrets and its connecting pathways, another Hogwarts student was moving stealthily through the halls of the school, listening carefully for any sign of Filch or a early-morning prefect patrol, and on the lookout for Filch's mangy cat, Mrs. Norris, which could be just as bad as Filch himself, for the caretaker never seemed to be far behind when that damned animal showed up anywhere.

Draco Malfoy was alone this morning. During daytime hours he normally drafted Crabbe or Goyle into standing guard while he worked, but they would only be a hindrance at this time of night, sneaking through the corridors. And it was a long trip all the way up from the Slytherin common area to the seventh floor of Hogwarts, where he'd been working almost since the beginning of the school year. Time was running down — he had only a few months left to accomplish his two-fold mission. The primary goal was to find a way to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts, to strike terror into the hearts of the students and staff here. The secondary goal, and Draco's personal rite of passage as a Death Eater, was to kill Professor Dumbledore.

Admittedly, it was not going well. His first attempt had failed when Katie Bell somehow managed to touch the cursed necklace as she was carrying it back from Hogsmeade to the school. The second attempt, a bottle of poisoned mead, had not ended up where it was intended. It had killed Ronald Weasley, who somehow ended up in Professor Slughorn's office the morning of his birthday and drank a toast with the Potions professor, and Harry Potter died as well, mysteriously, a few days later.

Harry Potter's death had not affected Draco much one way or the other. Potter had been a constant thorn in his side since the first day they'd set foot in this school, and his death, under mysterious circumstances, was something Draco felt isolated from, and at the same time protected by. Professor Slughorn had said that Potter hadn't drank any of the poisoned mead, but collapsed as they were trying to transfer Weasley from the professor's study.

Weasley's death was another matter.

Oh, no one could trace the poison back to him, Draco knew. He'd been very careful to avoid any kind of link between himself and the bottle of mead. But the bitter fact was, that type of behavior left things open to chance that he should have avoided. Katie Bell wouldn't have been cursed by the necklace except for the argument she had on the way back from Hogsmeade with her friend Leanne. Ronald Weasley wouldn't have _died_ but for the fact that Slughorn never did what should have done with the mead and sent it to Dumbledore, for Christmas. And now, with Snape breathing down his neck trying to steal his glory, Draco had resolved that when the time came, he would deal with Dumbledore personally, as his master had instructed him to do.

Draco arrived at the seventh floor corridor containing the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, a rather mad wizard who for some unknowable reason attempted to teach trolls the ballet, which was immortalized in the image woven into its material. He began pacing back and forth in front of the wall opposite the tapestry, thinking to himself, as hard as he could, _I need to enter the Room containing the Vanishing Cabinet. I need to enter the Room containing the Vanishing Cabinet_. On his third pass, a door appeared in the wall, a large, polished oaken door with a brass handle. Draco grasped the doorknob and quickly let himself into the room.

Turning, he saw the huge, cathedral-sized room he'd been visiting since he'd tricked Dobby, his family's former house-elf, into revealing there was a room in the castle where you could find things you needed to find. And he'd _definitely_ needed to find the Vanishing Cabinet.

The room itself was filled with light despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and the high windows along the walls were dark. There were towering walls of useless junk, things that must've been discarded over generations and generations of students, and some things that frankly made no sense to Malfoy. He was not to be distracted again, however, from his task. He walked down an alleyway seemingly guarded by a huge stuffed troll; a short walk later he stood before the Vanishing Cabinet, located conveniently near enough to the entrance that he could hear sounds coming from the corridor outside, if they were loud enough — a scale dropped on the floor, for example.

Malfoy stared resentfully at the Vanishing Cabinet. He'd been overjoyed at first to finally find it — it had been removed from the first floor after the Weasley twins shoved Edwin Montague into it last year. When Montague was finally found, he had told everyone in Slytherin the story, but only Draco figured out that the Vanishing Cabinets at Borgin and Burkes and the one at school could be used to transport people from the Knockturn Alley shop into Hogwarts.

If Draco could fix the Cabinet, that is. That was the rub, as it turned out. The thing was diabolically difficult to figure out; he'd been trying for months now and was closer to it now than then.

And it was vitally important that he figure it out. He'd been _warned_. His parents would die. _He_ would die. And that would be the end of the House of Malfoy — a sticky end, because Draco Malfoy couldn't figure out how to fix a damned Vanishing Cabinet within the next three months!

That gnawed at Draco, that the punishment was so out of proportion to the severity of his failure! Dumbledore was well over a hundred years old; some said he was something like 150 years old! He couldn't be much longer for this world, especially since he'd been sporting a withered hand since the start of the school year. He was losing his magic, Draco decided — that had to be the answer! When the time came, he would be able to dispatch the old man once and for all.

He hoped.

**=ooo=**

Ginny sat down across from Hermione at breakfast Thursday morning. Hermione was already working on homework, Ginny surmised; she was writing furiously on several sheets of parchment in front of her.

"Morning," Ginny said, helping herself to some eggs and bacon. Hermione didn't appear to have heard her, but just as Ginny was about to repeat her greeting Hermione held up a finger, signaling for a moment of silence. She finished writing, then picked up the sheets of parchment, shuffled them into order, and handed them to Ginny.

"What's this?" Ginny asked. "You don't want _me_ to check your work, do you?"

"Read it," Hermione urged. "Do you see any flaws?"

Ginny began reading the parchments.

* * *

><p>Affirmative Arguments for Professor <strong>Horace E. F. Slughorn<strong> to Surrender his — Memories

Drafted 6 March 1997 by  
>Hermione Jean Granger<p>

Professor Dumbledore needs the information

Prof. Dumbledore wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important.

It may help prevent You-Know-Who from taking over Wizarding Britain.

The lives of hundreds or thousands of witch and wizards could be saved.

It will honor Harry and Ron's memories.

They were trying to help Prof. Dumbledore as well.

Professor Slughorn is partly responsible for their deaths (this is an unfair statement but it may be effective).

It is the right thing to do.

Helping others is always right.

* * *

><p>Ginny looked at the other sheets of parchment. They were earlier versions of the top sheet, with words crossed out and others added. Hermione had rewritten the previous drafts, removing the proofreading marks! It was impressive, but —<p>

"Uh, right," she said doubtfully, handing the sheets back to Hermione. "Nicely done, but do you think it'll really work?"

Hermione was surprised by the question. "Of course it will work! Professor Slughorn is a very rational man, despite his predilection for favoritism among his Slug Club students."

"Yeah, but you said Harry told you that Slughorn altered this memory when he gave it to Dumbledore," Ginny pointed out. "He must be awfully ashamed of it to do that. I think you're going to have to push with more than just rational arguments."

"That's what argument number three is for," Hermione agreed. "I'll try to convince Professor Slughorn that he owes a debt to Harry and Ron. Not altogether fair, but it's important to obtain the true memory."

"Well, we'll see," Ginny muttered doubtfully. "I think you'll be lucky to get it."

"I hope so," Hermione nodded. "I think it's vitally important to —" she suddenly stopped talking, a very bemused expression on her face.

"What?" Ginny asked after several seconds. Hermione obviously had thought of something very important.

"Lucky," Hermione said softly, almost whispering. "There's a bottle of Felix Felicis up in Harry's trunk. I know how to get into Harry's trunk. I don't know _how_ I know, but I know. The spell is _Alohomora Voldemort_."

Ginny flinched, but nodded. "It's a good idea," she said, her voice as low as Hermione's. "When are you going up to Harry's dorm room? Before Potions with Slughorn?"

"No, after dinner tonight," Hermione decided. "Before any of the sixth-year

Gryffindor boys get back to the common room. Maybe you can distract Neville long enough in the Great Hall for me?"

"Sure," Ginny agreed. "He's always eager to talk to me — mostly about Luna these days."

"Oh?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Something going on with those two?"

"Sort of," Ginny shrugged. "Luna makes offhand comments about Neville sometimes. But then, she makes offhand comments about Harry too — like she thinks he's still alive. Something about him drinking unicorn blood."

Hermione stared at her a moment. That sounded awfully familiar.

"Neville talks about it, too," Ginny went on, ignoring Hermione's stare. "I don't know if he's just going along with Luna, or trying to impress her, but he said he dreamed that Harry was up in their dorm room last night."

"A lot of people seemed to think Harry is still alive, for one reason or another," Hermione commented. "I suppose a lot of people miss him," she reasoned, but sounded doubtful that was the case.

"I wonder what Professor Slughorn would think of that?" Ginny smirked.

"I don't know," Hermione shook her head. "Maybe I should add that to my arguments list — it might be the one that makes Professor Slughorn hand over the memory of his.

"Maybe your arguments, along with Felix, will make Slughorn give up the memory."

"Anything is worth a try," Hermione muttered, grimly. "But I'll only take a bit of the potion; in case it doesn't work the first time, I can try, try again."

They both gathered up their book bags, each heading toward their first class of the day. But while Ginny eagerly looked forward to seeing how lucky Felix Felicis could make someone, Hermione almost dreaded the thought of using Harry's Cloak to _steal_ the potion he'd won, back on the first day of Potions class. Had she stolen things before? She couldn't think of anything that really counted, but she didn't want to start with Harry's stuff, even if he was dead! There was really no choice here, however — even she could see what Ginny had seen, that her arguments alone weren't likely to convince the Potions Master he should give up that memory.

Felix it would have to be.

**=ooo=**

Just after dinner, Hermione entered the common room and walked directly to the staircase to the girls' dorm rooms, to put up her book bags. Her dorm room was empty, which allowed her to pull Harry's Invisibility Cloak out of the book bag she'd found it in and draped it over herself.

She crept back down to the common room, checking to see who was there. A group of first-years were clustered around a table, complaining _en masse_ about one teacher or another and the unfairness of their tests. Other students of various years were scattered about the room; Hermione noted with relief that none of the Gryffindor boys in their year were in the room — if they had been she might have given up the attempt tonight. Hermione moved toward the boys' staircase and slowly walked up it, to Harry's room.

She stood in the doorway of the room, surveying it. All the beds were neatly made — the work of house-elves, no doubt, Hermione thought with a small grimace of sympathy and disgust; sympathy for the elves, even though they would have gasped in horror at the very thought that they were being exploited, and disgust for the teenaged boys who didn't even think about who made their beds every day.

She should get this over with quickly. She recognized Harry's trunk and moved toward it, pushing aside a bit of the Invisibility Cloak so she could point her wand at it and whisper "_Alohomora Voldemort_!" There was a clicking sound and she pushed open the top of the trunk, then looked down at its contents in horror.

Harry's trunk was a _mess_.

There was no way she was going to find the bottle of Felix Felicis, not in that jumble of books, clothes, and miscellaneous junk. She pointed her wand at the contents and said, "_Accio Felix Felicis_!"

Nothing happened. Hermione grimaced again — obviously the trunk was enchanted to keep people from drawing things out of it as she had just tried to do. She sighed and began rummaging through the trunk, wrinkling her nose at the smell of "teenage boy" that emanated from it.

Near the top were a few pairs of jeans and some T-shirts, along with a pair of trainers and some rolled up socks — Harry's usual non-school hours attire. More interesting items came to light as she dug deeper and deeper — a photo album, a Sneakoscope, a broom care kit (Hermione remembered giving it to him), his golden egg from the Tri-Wizard Tournament, a pair of Omnioculars from the Quidditch World Cup earlier that same year, and the miniature Hungarian Horntail that he'd drawn for his first task at the Tournament. Hermione smiled as she found the S.P.E.W. badge and notebook she'd given him. Several Weasley sweaters were jumbled together near the bottom of the trunk, along with many of his schoolbooks from the first five years at Hogwarts. Didn't he keep them handy in case he needed one for research, Hermione wondered, but then remembered — he'd just ask her.

She came across a pocketknife, its main blade melted away — a gift from Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. There was a coathanger (what was _that_ for, she wondered), a furry brown wallet (probably from Hagrid, Hermione decided), a Wizarding chess set (for quick games with Ron?), a mini-Firebolt, a rather surreal portrait of Harry (at least she supposed so, it barely resembled him), a bunch of joke items from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and pieces of a broken mirror, which she barely escaped cutting herself on. But no bottle of Felix Felicis!

Hermione frowned in annoyance. It _had_ to be in there! _Well_, she amended herself, _Harry might have already used it up_. _But_, she continued, _wouldn't he have told me_ _if he had_? _Maybe not _— _he knew I was upset he'd won it using _that book. _Even so, he probably kept the bottle — it seems like he's got everything else in this trunk_!

Hermione pulled out her wand again, checking for secret panels inside the trunk. But the trunk seemed to be just a trunk; or at least, an inexpensive one, unlike some trunks, which could have multiple compartments enlarged with an Undetectable Extension Charm, making them huge inside. She began going through the trunk again, this time feeling each item very carefully for any kind of lump or irregularity. There were old robes, his dress robes from fourth year, the T-shirts and jeans, the inside of his trainers; none of them gave up anything but teenage boy smell and bits of dirt. The pair of mismatched socks — nothing. An old pair of matched socks — Eureka! Hermione unwrapped the socks and the bottle of Felix Felicis tumbled into her hand. It was still sealed, Harry hadn't taken any of it yet! She would only need a small amount, perhaps enough for two or three hours so she could talk to Slughorn, get him to see reason. She unsealed the vial, estimated what about one-eighth of the bottle would be, and took a mouthful of the shimmering liquid.

Nothing happened for several seconds, but then, slowly but surely, Hermione felt an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity spreading through her; she felt as though she could have done anything, anything at all… and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible, but _easy._

"Hermione! W-what are you doing up here?"

Hermione spun around guiltily. In the doorway, Neville Longbottom was staring at her incredulously. "Oh hi, Neville," she said casually, folding the bottle back into the socks as she smiled at him. "I just needed to find something in Harry's trunk."

"What did you just drink?" Neville asked suspiciously. "It looked like that bottle he won at the start of Potions class. Are you — are you _stealing_ from him?" Neville looked scandalized. "Hermione, he's only been dead a few days!"

"It's not what you think," she said quickly. "I need it to help finish a project Harry was working on — a job Professor Dumbledore gave him to do before he died."

"Oh." Neville looked impressed by that. "What is it?"

"I can't tell you right now," Hermione said apologetically. "It's kind of a secret. But you've been keeping some secrets about Harry yourself, haven't you?" she added, shrewdly.

"W-what do you m-mean?" Neville looked taken aback by her comment.

"You think he's still alive, don't you?" she asked, calmly.

Neville stared at her in fascinated horror. "Have you — have you been talking to Luna?" he finally croaked out.

"No," Hermione answered honestly. "But the walls have ears, you know," she added, to confuse him further. And then, because she _was_ being honest, "I've dreamed about him as well, Neville."

Neville's expression changed again; he nodded with some kind of understanding. "Professor Dumbledore _really_ had Harry doing something for him?"

"Yes," Hermione answered firmly. "He would have taken the Felix himself — I suggested it to him, but he died before he could. You have to keep this just between us, to honor his memory." That was a lie, of course, but it would make her presence here plausible, and something Neville wouldn't repeat to anyone, not even his dorm mates.

"Okay," Neville said.

"Go sit on your bed, Neville," she told him. "Close your eyes and count to ten, then open them."

As Neville walked toward his four-poster bed, Hermione closed Harry's trunk, pointed her wand at it and silently thought, _Colloarcus__ Voldemort_, to lock it again. When she glanced around at Neville, his eyes were shut. She bent down, grabbing the Cloak from the floor where she'd let it drop, and pulled it over herself, tiptoeing from the room as Neville finished counting to ten and opened his eyes, looking around and wondering where she had gone. Hermione hoped he hadn't noticed the Invisibility Cloak lying on the floor. _With any luck_, she thought ironically.

Ginny was supposed to go the see Slughorn with her, but Hermione felt things would go better if she were alone. She wasn't in the common room anyway, Hermione saw as she made for the portrait hole, wondering how she was going to get out of the common room —the Fat Lady's portrait swinging open by itself would arouse suspicion. At that moment, however, it swung open to reveal Ginny and Dean climbing in. Hermione tried to pass by them invisibly, under the Cloak, but she bumped Ginny as she passed her. She turned around, frowning, and said, "Don't push me, Dean," in an annoyed tone. "You keep doing that! I can get through on my own."

"I didn't bump you!" Dean retorted angrily, "Why do you…" the portrait swung close, and Hermione missed the rest of his reply. It wasn't important, anyway — she had a Potions professor to convince.

Hermione stuffed the Invisibility Cloak on her way to Slughorn's office. The professor's office was on the second floor, just beneath the hospital wing. Not a short walk from the Gryffindor common room, but not that far, either. Thus, not that long after stepping through the portrait hole, she found herself standing in front of Professor Slughorn's office door, softly knocking on it.

She could hear indistinct sounds beyond the door, as if someone were shuffling across the floor, muttering to themselves as the came… The door opened, and Professor Slughorn, dressed in a dark green velvet smoking jacket and floppy green slippers. "Ah, Miss Granger!" he boomed, though not using his daytime booming voice. "A most unexpected and pleasant surprise! What may I do for you, m'dear?"

"May I come in and talk to you for a few minutes, please?" Hermione asked, politely.

"Concerning?" Slughorn prompted, innocuously.

Hermione felt sure that if she informed the Potions Master of her intentions, he would slam the door in her face then and there. So she said, "Concerning how certain magic spells might be relevant to potion-making."

Slughorn smiled benignly. "_Entrez s'il vous plait_, Mademoiselle," he said, stepping aside to allow her in his office.

"_Merci beaucoup, Professeur_," Hermione smiled, allowing herself to follow his use of French. She loved speaking French! But it would probably not do, not for what he intended, here and now. She stepped inside his office, looking around interestedly. This is where whatever happened to Harry and Ron, happened. She wished she could talk to Slughorn about that as well, but it would distract from her mission, and would put the Potions professor on his guard, something that might lose the edge she felt right now.

"Now, m'dear," Slughorn continued, after shutting his office door and settling his bulk into his desk chair. "What is your question?"

The parchment page of arguments suddenly felt hollow to her; they weren't going to convince Slughorn to talk. Therefore Hermione discarded them for the ineffective meanderings that they were. She felt like improvising, anyway.

"It was something Harry and I were working on," Hermione began. Not exactly the truth, but she wanted to ally herself closely to Harry. "A very important project, one that had great ramifications for him personally. A project he thought you could help him with."

"Indeed," Slughorn looked both interested and apprehensive._ Has he figured out why I'm here _already? Hermione wondered. "I don't believe he ever spoke to me about such a project, Miss Granger."

_He might be playing coy_, Hermione thought.

"But he did speak highly of _you_, as you know," Slughorn went on. "You remind me somewhat of his mother — very intelligent, very inquisitive, the brightest witch in your year, just as she was. I am quite interested to hear of this project of yours and his."

Hermione nodded slowly. "This project may tie into his mother," she said. "Though only indirectly — we do not know for sure. It seems that you are the person best suited to answer my question, Professor, seeing as how you knew Harry's mother personally."

Slughorn smiled beneath his great walrus mustache. "I shall do my best to answer you, Miss Granger, seeing as how Lily Evans was one of my favorite students in my entire time here at Hogwarts."

"Have you ever heard how they died?" Hermione asked, following a hint from Felix.

Slughorn looked a bit frightened by the question. "N-no," he said, slowly. "H-how could I…?"

"Harry found out," Hermione told him. "He described it to me. It was quite horrible."

"I'm sure it must've been," Slughorn whispered, terror in his eyes. He did not want to hear this, yet he could not order her to stop telling him.

"Harry's father died first, did you know that?" Hermione went on, implacably.

"I — I didn't…"

"Then Voldemort went for his mum," Hermione continued. Slughorn shuddered at the mention of the Name, but could not tear his gaze from Hermione's face. "He told her she didn't have to die, that he'd only come for her son. She needn't have died, she could have run."

"Oh," Slughorn breathed, raggedly. "She needn't have… she could have…" His face seemed to crack with sadness and shame. "That's…awful…"

"Yes, it is," Hermione agreed, her voice not more than a whisper. "But Harry said she didn't move. His dad was already dead, but she didn't want him to take Harry, too. She tried to plead with him for Harry's life, but Voldemort just laughed at her."

"Enough!" Slughorn suddenly said, shaking his head violently and raising a hand before her. "I'm an old man, Miss Granger! I don't need to hear such awful things…I don't _want_ to hear them…"

"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," Hermione said, though in truth she felt nothing but determination at this moment. "You liked Harry's mum, didn't you?"

Slughorn nodded. "I can't imagine anyone _not_ liking her, once they'd met her. She was very brave, Lily was, and very funny… It was the most horrible thing when she, when she…"

"You would have helped her if you could have," Hermione suggested, softly.

Slughorn nodded convulsively. "I could have helped her," he muttered hoarsely. "Shown her how to hide from the Death Eaters, like I've been hiding for the past year…"

"You would have helped _her_," Hermione repeated. "But you won't help her son."

Slughorn turned frightened eyes on her once again. "What do you mean?" A sudden realization finally came into his eyes. "That _memory_ —!"

"Yes, that memory," Hermione nodded. "The memory that Harry desperately needed, to help him and Dumbledore understand what Horcruxes are."

At her mention of the word "Horcruxes" Slughorn flinched violently. "D-don't say that word," he whispered. "It's not a fair request…if it could help you, of course…but no purpose can be served now…"

"Yes, it can," Hermione stated, her voice strong and clear. "Professor Dumbledore needs that information, he knows you tampered with your own memories, he knows they are still there, inside your head. He needs that memory."

Slughorn looked paler than ever. "My dear, you are asking a great deal…you are asking me to in fact aid you in finding and destroying Y-you-Know —"

"Don't you want to help get rid of the Dark wizard who killed Lily Evans?" Hermione pressed.

Slughorn looked flustered, conflicted. "Of course — of course I do! But —"

"But you're afraid he'll find out you helped me?" Hermione finished for him. Slughorn said nothing to her; his eyes showed the terror in his heart.

"Lily was brave, Professor," Hermione pointed out. "She stood up to Voldemort even though it cost her her life, to save Harry's. But she's gone now, just as Harry is. You cannot lose more than Harry has already lost, Professor," she concluded. "Be brave, like they were, like the man you want yourself to be."

Slughorn was breathing raggedly. At the moment he resembled an enormous, overgrown baby, frightened and confused, wanting its own mummy to bring him comfort and peace. "I'm — I'm not proud of that night, of what that memory showed," he whispered. "I may have done great damage to the Wizarding world that day…"

"You can cancel out whatever you did wrong by giving me that memory," Hermione said. "It would be brave and noble, like Lily and Harry were."

There was a long, long silence, but Felix Felicis told Hermione not to break it, to wait. Then, very slowly, Slughorn put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. He put his other hand inside his cloak and took out a small, empty bottle. Still looking into her eyes, Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and longer the memory stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Slughorn lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He corked the bottle with a trembling hand and then passed it across the table to Hermione.

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said, quite sincerely, touched by his sacrifice in spite of the near-certainty of success Felix was instilling in her.

Slughorn nodded wearily. "Just — just don't think too badly of me, once you've seen it. He was quite a charming boy, I wish he was still around."

Hermione wasn't sure whether the professor was referring to Harry or to Tom Riddle. She knew who _she_ preferred was still around.

"Now," Slughorn said, rising and walking to the door. "You may take your leave of me, Miss Granger. I wish — I wish to think on what I've just done…"

Hermione nodded and walked out of Slughorn's office without another word. Outside the office, she stared at the vial of Slughorn's memory thoughtfully. She _should_ take this immediately to Professor Dumbledore's office. That was what he had asked her to do if she collected it.

But Felix Felicis was pulling her in another direction, and it had not steered her wrong yet. She slipped the vial carefully into her robes, drew out the Invisibility  
>Cloak, and began following where Felix was leading her.<p>

**=ooo=-**

Albus Dumbledore looked up as the whirlwind of color and sound died away in his office, leaving two pale young men standing before him. It was a little after sunset, and the dying light in the west sky was dimming the colors of his office; it would soon be time for the lamps to light. "Good evening, gentlemen," he nodded to them. "I trust you had a pleasant rest today."

"It was…sufficient, sir," Harry replied. He could sense the urgency in Ron, standing beside him, but he didn't want to seem impatient to be out of Dumbledore's sight. "We thought we'd go out for a — bite." Ron chuckled.

"You will confine your dining to the Forest, I trust?" Dumbledore suggested quietly.

"Of course," both Harry and Ron said at the same time. Dumbledore nodded solemnly, keeping his inner thoughts still and quiet. Even Occlumency could not stop a vampire from reading your thoughts, but you must think those thoughts before they can do so. A perfect Occlumens could keep his thoughts so ordered as to present a false front to anyone reading their mind — nor merely no thought, which was suspicious in itself, but that they were thinking something entirely different. _I do hope they will not overgorge themselves_, the thought floated to the surface of Dumbledore's mind.

"Don't worry, sir," Ron smiled. "We'll just drink enough to not feel hungry." It was quite exhilarating, he thought, to be able to see inside the headmaster's mind rather than the other way around, after all these years!

Dumbledore nodded as if approving. "Off you go, then."

Harry nodded and stepped up on the windowsill that afforded the view of the Forbidden Forest. He stepped off, allowing himself to float down to the ground over seven stories below. It took only a few seconds; he fell at almost normal speed until the last dozen feet or so, then slowed to a halt just as he feet touched ground.

Harry looked back up, to the Headmaster's Tower, seeing Ron standing in the window now. Ron looked a bit apprehensive, though he'd already demonstrated his increased powers by reading Dumbledore's mind. Harry gestured impatiently for Ron to follow, and Ron nodded, then stepped off the windowsill.

But Ron did a strange thing; as Harry watched, bemused, Ron stepped not into empty air, but turned so that his foot fell on the wall of the tower. He then began _walking down the tower_ toward Harry. It was an interesting and cool trick, and Harry wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. Hmph, he was probably more into flying than Ron was, or maybe there was a bit of Fred and George's creativity in their younger brother.

It took nearly a minute for Ron to reach the base of the castle. About six feet from the ground, he rotated away from the wall, his feet settling on the ground. "That was brilliant," Harry said, dryly. "I thought you were anxious to test out your powers as well as get something to eat."

"Just thought I'd try something different," Ron grinned. "Shall we find something to eat, then?"

"Another deer?" Harry asked. "Or do you have something else in mind? A spider, maybe — a big, juicy one?"

Ron made a face. He was no longer scared of spiders — or scared of anything, really, except maybe the sun. "Gross," he said, sticking his tongue out. "They're not really full of blood, anyway. And they're too small."

"An acromantula, then?" Harry smiled, enjoying the game he was having with Ron.

Ron shook his head. "A centaur?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Ron wasn't playing the game too well. "We can't do centaurs — they're intelligent, like humans. We'd have to mesmerize it to take its blood, and if we kill it we're likely to become Dark. I'd rather avoid that option for now."

Ron pondered for a moment. Finally, "A unicorn, then. Its blood's quite tasty, and it's not considered a Being."

Harry frowned. "I don't think we can mesmerize it, anyway. Von Necros didn't even _try_ to mesmerize it, he asked Luna to talk it into giving up its blood."

"How're we going to know unless we try?" Ron argued.

Harry crossed his arms, thinking. It would be interesting if they could convince a unicorn to give them blood — it had been very energizing, drinking that silvery-blue liquid, feeling power flowing into every part of him as it spread itself through his almost-dead tissues. How would it feel to him now that he was dead?

On the other hand, he had the foreboding feeling that it would be a _Very Bad Thing_ to do.

But how were they going to know unless they _tried_?

"I suppose we can have a go," he sighed. Ron smiled toothily.

Finding unicorns in the Forbidden Forest, it turned out, was something easier said than done. They came across all sorts of normal animals — deer, bears, rabbits, squirrels, snakes, lizards, birds — even a tawny owl or two, but the elusive unicorn seemed able to avoid them; or at least Harry and Ron were beginning to feel that way, after an hour or so of searching.

Ron floated down from the tree he'd been in, searching for any sign of a unicorn. At least he had not tried to walk down the trunk, Harry thought. "This is getting ridiculous," Ron complained. "Did all the unicorns suddenly leave the Forest at the same time?"

"Possibly," Harry observed. "Maybe they heard we were coming and decided they didn't want to be a lower rung on the food chain."

Ron just stared balefully at him. "Okay, that's probably not the real answer," Harry admitted at last. "Maybe we're just being unlucky tonight."

Realization lit both of their eyes at the same moment, but Ron spoke first. "Too bad we can't get ahold of that bottle of Felix Felicis," he said, wistfully.

"It probably wouldn't work on us anyway, now," Harry muttered, but there was a wistfulness in his voice as well.

"Maybe not," Ron agreed. "But if we had Luna drink a bit of it, she might be able to find a unicorn and convince it to give her some of its blood."

"No," Harry said, firmly. They were not going to involve Luna, or Hermione, or _anyone_ else in this _insanity_ they had been drawn into. "Look, why don't I just call a deer?" he suggested. "After we eat, you can practice some of your new vampire abilities."

Ron put a hand over his middle. "I guess. I'm starting to feel really hungry."

Harry was, too. One of the things about being in good shape (for a vampire, that is) is that you needed blood to stay that way. After a while without blood, your hunger would subside a bit, but you'd start getting weaker and weaker. That was something they couldn't afford to let happen, even "protected" here at Hogwarts. Von Necros might call upon them at any time, to send them on a mission or perhaps just to prepare for it. Even Sanguini didn't know what they'd be doing—they'd asked him straight out. So the only thing they could do now was to keep themselves fed and keep learning the limits of their powers.

Harry flew straight up, into the tree Ron had just come down from, to check the forest nearby for deer of any kind. Even in the near total darkness of the deep forest he could see quite clearly for some distance. Ron had described being able to see much better in the dark than before — his power approached Harry's now. Harry scanned the area carefully, watching for any sign of a deer, listening for a heartbeat like the one he'd heard from the first deer they'd taken.

Then he saw the unicorn, and almost laughed out loud. Surely there must be some rule, a law, that said you would find something as soon as you stopped looking for it! The unicorn was over a hundred yards away but clearly visible in the dim moonlight that shown through the forest canopy. It was facing mostly toward them; approaching it would be difficult. Harry floated silently down to the ground next to Ron.

"Found a unicorn," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Ron heard him clearly, however; he nodded and stared in the direction Harry pointed.

"I see it," he said at last, his voice as quiet as Harry's. "What's the plan?"

Harry looked at him. "D'you want to see if you can mesmerize it?"

Ron looked a bit startled. "I've never mesmerized _anything_ before!" he pointed out. "Much less a unicorn! What if I can't do it?"

"How are you going to know unless you try?" Harry said, deadpan.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Right, then," he muttered, and began moving toward the unicorn. Harry held back, following at a dozen paces' distance. Even through the leaf and twig-strewn ground, Ron was moving silently, stepping only on the March grass, still dormant from the winter. When he was twenty paces from the unicorn he stopped, trying to catch its eye.

The unicorn, however, seemed restless—it pawed the ground restlessly, its head bobbing up and down. Finally, however, it looked up into Ron's eyes and froze.

"That's it," Ron said softly, invitingly. "Nice unicorn…come to me…"

The unicorn moved slowly toward Ron, its eyes fixed on his. Harry watched intently, wondering if Ron had really mesmerized the animal. That would be quite interesting — they could take small amounts of unicorn blood, enough to keep their blood-thirst at bay while they fed on lesser animals most of the time.

Ron had lured the unicorn within ten feet of him, and was wondering how he was going to take its blood, when the unicorn's head came up sharply and it charged him.

Caught flat-footed in surprise, both Harry and Ron did nothing as the unicorn slammed its horn into Ron's chest, driving it through his heart. Ron gasped and collapsed, dropping to the ground. "NO!" Harry shouted, sprinting forward as the unicorn pulled its horn free, turned and galloped away. Harry bent over Ron, examining the wound.

It was like a stake through the heart, Harry saw. Ron wasn't breathing, but vampires didn't breathe anyway. He wasn't moving, though, and that was a bad sign. "Ron," he whispered, putting his hand over the hole in his chest.

_This wasn't supposed to happen,_ Harry thought, streaks of reddish tears beginning to run down his cheeks. Sanguini had told them true vampires were proof against any metal except silver, wounds should heal almost instantly. But Ron wasn't healing! Harry would have to bring him back to the Chamber of Secrets, hoping that Sanguini could help him somehow, or contact von Necros.

A small _swish_ and _click_ reached his ears, but Harry paid it no heed, even as a small _whooshing_ sound impinged on his ears, a sound that was coming closer. Was it the unicorn, returning to attack him? But Harry heard no sound of hooves on the ground.

An impact on his back made him lurch forward, and Harry caught himself before he fell forward onto Ron. A strange sensation made him look down, and his eyes widened as he beheld the tip of a crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest. The tip, he could tell, was silver; the bolt had just missed his heart.

And now he could hear footsteps moving toward him, large, heavy footsteps that seemed to vibrate the ground beneath him. Harry reached down, painfully pulling the bolt through his chest. He felt the wound begin to close, though not quickly—it had been made with silver, and silver inhibited vampiric healing.

The footsteps came closer, stopped. A presence loomed behind him, huge and threatening. "Awright, yer great bloody vamper, turn round — I want ter see yer murderin' face afore I put one in yer heart this time!"

Harry stood slowly, very wobbly, then turned and faced his attacker. "Hello, H-Hagrid," he said, feeling light-headed.

Hagrid's eyes practically bulged, as widened as they were at the sight of him. "Great thunderin' thestrals!" he exclaimed. "HARRY POTTER!"

"That's me," Harry said faintly, then collapsed to the ground beside Ron.


	10. For Whom the Portkey Tolls

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Ten  
>"<strong>For Whom the Portkey Tolls"<strong>

Updated January 20, 2012

_Tromp, Tromp. Tromp_.

Harry slowly found his way back to consciousness. He didn't really want to, given that Ron was probably dead (_really_ dead, not just undead dead) right now, and it was partly his fault — he'd let Ron try to mesmerize the unicorn.

_ Tromp. Tromp. Tromp._

His eyes were still closed. The last thing he remembered… he'd been kneeling over Ron's still form, his hand over the gaping hole in his friend's chest — a hole that had been made when the unicorn impaled him upon it. Ron hadn't moved afterward…

_ Tromp. Tromp. Tromp._

Hagrid had shot him, he remembered. The bolt had gone through his chest. It had been silver-tipped, meaning Hagrid had been hunting either vampires or possibly werewolves. He wondered whether Hagrid thought there were vampires in the Forbidden Forest. He reached down, touching his chest. The wound there had almost healed, despite his vulnerability to silver. How long had he been unconscious?

_ Tromp. Tromp. Tromp._

That sound, Harry thought. That damnable sound… He opened his eyes, sitting up. He was in Hagrid's cabin, a one-room house, simply built but sufficient for the half-giant's needs. Harry was lying on the floor, between Hagrid's enormous bed and the corner fireplace. Hagrid himself was walking back and forth in front of the front door, seemingly quite agitated. Of Fang there was no sign.

_ Tromp. Tromp. Tromp._

There was no sign of Ron, either, until Harry glanced over at Hagrid's bed. Ron's body was laid out on it, arms crossed over his chest, on top of a large piece of tarpaulin. Harry rose smoothly and went over to where Ron was lying. The hole in his chest was still there, but much smaller than it had been. Was Ron still ali—

"HARRY!"

Harry turned around to see the half-giant staring incredulously at him. "Harry, what th' hell? We all thought yer were dead!"

"Well," Harry said, dispassionately. "I am — sort of."

"That's not what I MEAN!" Hagrid roared, slamming his fists down on the scrubbed table in the center of his cabin, which promptly shattered into pieces. "Professor Dumbledore tol' us yeh died 'cause of…" he was looking helplessly at Harry. "Well, he didn't actually _say_ what yeh died of," Hagrid muttered, then waved a massive hand toward Harry. "But he sure di'n't say yeh'd become a _bloody_ _vampire_!"

"It was a bit of a surprise to us, too," Harry replied, somberly. He was not happy about what he was going to have to do; he couldn't allow Hagrid to keep the knowledge that he and Ron were alive. The only person at Hogwarts that knew, other than Dumbledore, was Hermione, and Harry was afraid of what might happen if he or Ron ever saw her again. Something had made her act — _strange_, after he'd returned her to the Gryffindor common room. She acted attracted to him, as if he'd given her a love potion. That was something Sanguini had told them that vampires could do — they could make their victims, especially those of the opposite sex, feel physically drawn to them. Harry did not like the idea of Hermione as a victim, of him or anyone else.

Harry didn't think something like that was going to work on Hagrid, though. But to command Hagrid's obedience, to make him forget about him and Ron, Harry was going to have to drink some of the half-giant's blood. First, however, he would have to mesmerize him, to keep Hagrid from resisting until it was too late. As strong as Harry was now, he wasn't sure how his strength measured up against his alarmingly large friend.

Hagrid was ruefully surveying the wreckage of his table. "Guess I'm gonna have ter make another one," he muttered, looking down at the shattered pieces strewn about the floor.

"_Hagrid_," Harry said, looking at him intently.

Hagrid looked up at him. "What?" he asked, blankly. They locked eyes, and Hagrid's mouth slowly fell open as his eyes seemed to defocus. Harry listened for a moment to his heartbeat; it was strong and steady, though it beat so loudly it almost seemed to echo throughout the cabin. It was strange listening to the echoes of his heartbeat coming off the walls of the cabin.

"_Easy, Hagrid_," Harry said, moving slowly toward him. "_Just listen to my voice, only my voice_. _You're feeling tired, sleepy_… _Sit down_." Hagrid sat in one of the chairs that hadn't broken when he shattered the table.

Was he really going to do this? Harry couldn't see any other choice. Hermione knowing about them was too much, but he had to trust her, after everything they'd been through together!

Even seated, Harry had to stand on tiptoe to reach Hagrid's neck. His beard and mass of tangled black hair was making it difficult for Harry to find an uncovered spot on his neck. He would need only a little—a couple of mouthfuls of Neville's blood was enough to make him susceptible to Harry's influence. He opened his mouth, his fangs extending, and bent toward Hagrid's throat —

A hand closed on his shoulder, and surprising strength pulled him away. Ron was on his feet, staring at Harry in shock. There was a red mark on his chest where the unicorn had gored him, but the wound was closed, Harry saw. "Harry, what are you _doing_?" he shouted. "We're not supposed to drink human blood! _You_ told me that!"

Harry whirled around, facing his friend. "We have to make sure Hagrid doesn't remember finding us," he snapped. Hagrid was still sitting docilely, a blank expression on his huge face. "What if he tells someone?"

"Who's he gonna tell?" Ron snapped back. "You, me an' Hermione were his best friends here at school, an' I doubt Hermione's come to visit him since we — since we…left."

"And you'd be wrong," said Hermione's voice, from another corner of the cabin.

_ Aw, crap._

Hermione's head appeared from beneath the Invisibility Cloak. The last time Harry had seen her, she was giving him a doe-eyed look of fascination. Now, she merely looked furious. "You're both _alive_!" she said, accusingly.

Harry and Ron both stared at her, nonplussed. "Sorry to disappoint you," Ron finally retorted, icily, "but you're _wrong_!" Smugly, "We're _undead_, not alive."

Hermione tore off the rest of the Cloak, letting it drop to the floor. "I know what you are, Ron Weasley!" she said, stamping her foot. She nodded her head toward Harry. "Harry came to visit me a few nights ago, to have me help him —" she glanced at Hagrid, who still seemed to be mesmerized. "To help him do something," she went on, shooting Harry a poisonous look at the same time. "But then he must've thought I wasn't _trustworthy_ enough to let me remember — he made me forget that we'd even met! But I still remembered it as a dream, and I've been working on figuring out the dream ever since."

Ron whirled on Harry. "Why'd you make her forget, Harry? Hermione's our _friend_!"

"I didn't try to make her forget!" Harry protested. "But she — she —" _Aw crap again!_ he thought. I can't say why I shouted for her to forget we were together! "It must've been too much for her to remember!"

"Too much for HERMIONE?" Ron roared laughter. "Right — pull the other one, Harry!"

"Ginny and I were talking and —" Hermione began.

"_Ginny knows we're alive_?" Ron exploded.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "She was helping me figure out what my dream meant, is all. We went to Professor Dumbledore to see if I could use his Pensieve to see it more clearly, but he convinced us it was just a dream. That makes me wonder what _he_ knows about the two of you, by the way. Anyway, I thought I could help you —" looking at Harry "— and the Headmaster by getting that memory from Professor Slughorn that you needed, and I'd written up a page of arguments to use to convince him, but then I remembered the bottle of Felix Felicis in your trunk and I went up and drank a bit using the Invisibility Cloak, but Neville caught me and I had to convince him he would be honoring Harry's memory by keeping my visit to himself, and I went to see Professor Slughorn and convinced him to give me the memory." She brought the vial out from under her robes.

"You got it?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he saw the vial of swirling silvery thought. "Why didn't you bring it right to Dumbledore?"

"Felix told me to come here," Hermione answered. "It made me think there was something going on in Hagrid's cabin I should know about. When I got here, the cabin was empty but the door was open, a bit. I came in and stood in the corner, waiting for Hagrid. Fang came in a while ago and jumped into his bed, but I think he smelled me because he jumped up and began sniffing the floor, coming toward me. Just then Hagrid came in, carrying the two of you, and Fang bolted out of here like someone had hit him with a Running Hex."

"Sanguini said that many animals are afraid to be around vampires," Ron interjected.

"Sanguini? Wasn't he that vampire at Professor Slughorn's Christmas party?" Hermione recalled.

"_Half_-vampire," Ron corrected, but he smiled without showing his teeth. Really, it was nice seeing Hermione again; he'd expected they'd never cross paths once he'd become a vampire. "They're the only vampires the Wizarding world knows about; everyone thinks vampires are much less powerful than they really are, including, eh, You-Know-Who."

"Ron, too much information," Harry muttered, grimacing, but it was too late.

Hermione was shaking her head in near-disbelief. "You mean there's a secret society of vampires, hidden from the Wizarding World, which is _itself_ hiding from the Muggle world? I'm almost not even surprised at that."

Harry was running his hand through his head of unruly black hair in frustration. "That's not even what's important at that moment, anyway," he told her. "What's important is getting that memory back to Dumbledore as quick as we can." He looked at Hagrid, who was still sitting in the chair, a look of total blankness on his face. "And I've still got to drink some of Hagrid's blood, so I can command him to forget Ron and I were ever here."

"No you don't," Hermione spoke up. "Once you've got him hypnotized this deeply, you can tell him to do whatever you want."

Ron looked at her in surprise. "How d'you know that — read it in some book?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Hermione retorted archly. "In _The Secret Society of Vampires_, by the vampire Lestoat. It was supposed to be a novel about a secret society of vampires around the world that was controlling all the other vampires. They had special powers regular vampires didn't. Everyone thought he made it up, but apparently there was some truth behind it. In it he described how vampires could hypnotize people and take control of them."

"I tried to do that with Neville," Harry objected. "It didn't work!"

"Did you hypnotize him first?" Hermione asked.

"I — er, I thought I just had to command him, but he started yelling, and I had to shut him up."

"You drank Neville's _blood_?" Ron said, in a revolted tone. "Neville? Er, how'd it taste?" he wondered, suddenly interested.

"Eww!" Hermione said shrilly. "That's _gross_, Ron!"

Ron threw up his hands, embarrassed. "I wasn't going to try and find out for myself, thank you very much!"

"Let's get back on track here!" Harry demanded. "Ron, see if there's anything in that keg," he said, pointing to a barrel sitting near the fireplace. He ran over to the cupboard and pulled down one of Hagrid's enormous mugs, then joined Ron next to the keg. It hadn't been tapped but Harry drove a finger through the top and pulled out the slat. Harry tipped the keg to one side, sloshing some into the mug and letting some spill onto the floor. He put the slat back in place.

"Hermione, can you fix this so Hagrid won't know it was opened?" Harry asked her. "And his table as well. That way he won't be suspicious of why it's broken." Hermione sighed and took out her wand, casting _Reparo_ on the slat and the table. They put the mug in Hagrid's hand, and Harry sprinkled some of the contents (which smelled like butterbeer) on Hagrid's beard and clothing.

"_Hagrid_," he said softly in the giant's ear. "_You've been sleeping for the past several hours, and you dreamed about finding Harry Potter and Ron Weasley in the Forest while you were hunting vampires_. _It was just a dream — you didn't really find them_. _You'll wake up in the morning and remember nothing else about last night_."

"Why not just make him forget everything?" Ron asked, as Harry stepped away from the sleeping giant.

"If he thinks he dreamed it, he might not wonder what he was doing last night," Harry explained.

Ron looked at Hermione, then back at Harry. "This is _Hagrid_ we're talking about, remember."

"Ron! That's a cruel thing to say!" Hermione admonished him, but she was hiding half a smile as she said it.

"Well, it's true!" Ron retorted. "Hagrid's not the sharpest knife in the —"

"We get it, Ron," Harry said, not particularly amused by Ron's comment. They'd been careless and stupid themselves earlier; first, letting a unicorn gore Ron, then not paying enough attention to their surroundings so that a human as big as Hagrid (even as quiet as he could be sometimes, especially when hunting) sneak up on them. And then, he hadn't realized Hermione was in the _cabin_ with them until she revealed herself! They were not doing well at all.

Harry rubbed his forehead tiredly (but more from frustration than actual fatigue) and turned to Hermione. "We need to get that memory to Dumbledore right away," he told her.

Hermione blinked. "But it's past midnight," she protested. "He'll be asleep by now."

"Maybe," Harry didn't look particularly worried. "He'll wake up for this, though. Put the Invisibility Cloak back on and we'll go up to see him."

"It will be difficult to make it all the way through the castle to his office," Hermione pointed out. "Even with your Cloak."

Harry smiled wryly. "We're not going through the castle, and neither are you."

Several minutes later the trio found themselves next to the castle walls beneath the window to Dumbledore's office. Hermione was looking upward with some trepidation. "Are you _sure_ you can fly up that high, carrying me?"

"Using a Levitation Charm on yourself will help," Harry said, mildly. "It worked before."

Hermione shot him a sharp look; she was still annoyed that he'd made her forget their first meeting, even inadvertently. Nonetheless, she pulled out her wand and cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on herself; soon, she was floating about an inch off the ground. Harry and Ron each took one of her arms and, nodding to each other, jumped upward. They soared into the sky, straight up along the castle's wall and to the window the Headmaster had left open. At the window, the two vampires set her on the windowsill and let her jump down into Dumbledore's office before following Ron inside behind her.

In Dumbledore's office, the headmaster was at his desk, writing on a long parchment scroll. He had looked up, and was regarding the three of them with an expression of amused resignation.

"I suppose I should have expected this visitation before long," he said, a wry smile tweaking at his lips. "Harry and Ron, I hope you have considered the potential ramifications of allowing Miss Granger knowledge of your existence."

"Not like we had a choice," Ron pointed out. "She found _us_."

"Oh, and how did that come about?" the headmaster asked.

"Just lucky, I suppose, sir," Hermione said, not quite smiling herself. "I was in Hagrid's cabin and —"

Dumbledore put up a hand, stopping her. "Is Hagrid aware of your existence?" he asked the two vampires, a concerned expression on his face.

"He found us in the Forbidden Forest," Harry replied. "Hey may have thought we were killing the unicorns there. I left him in his cabin asleep — he'll think he dreamed about us when he wakes up."

"And Miss Granger? Did he see her at any time?"

"No, sir. She was under my Invisibility Cloak."

"I see," Dumbledore looked thoughtful for several seconds. "May I presume you made it available to her?"

"Uh —" Harry didn't know what to say to that. "Well, I let her use it to sneak out of the castle one night so we could go to the Forbidden Forest and get some unicorn blood for Ron, and afterward —" _Afterwards_ was something he didn't want to get into right now. "— afterwards, I guess I, uh, forgot she had it."

"Mmm," Dumbledore nodded. He turned to Hermione. "I suggest, Miss Granger, that you guard it well. It is a very useful item — no good could come of having it falling into the wrong hands," he said, quite soberly.

Hermione nodded, convinced by the headmaster's demeanor.

"Now, if you don't mind," Dumbledore said, seeming to sag a bit. "I have a few things to do before retiring this evening, and I would like to go back to doing them —"

Hermione suddenly jerked. "Oh! I nearly forgot why we came here! Headmaster, I have Professor Slughorn's memory!" She brought out the vial of Slughorn's thoughts.

If Harry thought the headmaster looked stunned when the three of them appeared at his study window, it was nothing compared to the look of surprise on his face now.

"Miss Granger, this is spectacular news! Very well done! I am quite pleased you were able to recover this memory from Horace!" If the professor had seemed tired a moment earlier, it was immediately forgotten. He hurried around from his desk, taking the bottle from Hermione and strode over to the cabinet where he kept his Pensieve. After placing it on the desk, he emptied the contents of the bottle into it. Hermione stepped up eagerly to the desk and the headmaster looked up quickly at her, a small apologetic frown on his face.

"Miss Granger," he said gently, "at risk of offending you, I would prefer that Harry and I view this memory first."

Hermione took a step back, looking disappointed. "Sir?" she asked, with a bit of asperity, "do you think Harry will even be able to use the Pensieve, given that he's a vampire?"

Dumbledore was giving her a penetrating look; Harry and Ron were looking at each other, both wondering if she was right — was their magical ability so far gone that they couldn't even be _affected_ by magic, much less use it? For that was the thought Hermione was thinking at the moment.

"I'm sure he will be able to use the Pensieve, Miss Granger," Dumbledore assured her. "It has been used by vampires before."

_Everyone's_ eyes widened at that remark. "Who —?" Ron began, but cut himself off. He and Harry had already caught the image that had come, unbidden, into Dumbledore's mind.

Von Necros.

"For now," the headmaster was saying, as he stepped around behind the desk once again. "Harry and I will view the memory; afterwards, we will share the details of what we've seen with you and Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley."

He gestured for Harry to join him at the desk. "Now, at last, we shall see," he said. "Quickly, Harry…"

Harry and Dumbledore leaned over the Pensieve, and their bodies were suddenly drawn into the stone bowl. Hermione took an involuntary step backwards, startled, then looked at Ron, who had glanced at her with an inquiring look on his face, as if he expected her to say something.

Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable for the first time since seeing Harry and Ron, without really knowing why. Ron's expression wasn't aggressive or angry, yet he seemed to be expecting something of her. "What is it, Ron?" she finally asked.

Ron almost looked surprised by this question; he'd apparently been expecting her to say something else. "Don't you have something to say to me?" he asked.

"Like what?" she wanted to know.

"Well… like how you're sorry about being mad at me and not telling me before I, well, died, you know."

"Sorry?" Hermione was incredulous. "You were _snogging Lavender_! You were doing it all over the school. I couldn't swing a dead cat without seeing you and her all wrapped up in each other!"

Ron folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah? Well you snogged Viktor Krum, didn't you, and never told me about it. At least I was more honest than you were!"

"Oh, and who _told_ you I snogged Viktor?" Hermione challenged, crossing her own arms mockingly. "Did it ever occur to you that might have been just a rumor?"

"You did go to the Yule Ball with him," Ron pointed out.

"Which you _ruined_ with your stupid jealousy!" Hermione snapped back at him. "Even your own _date_ said so!"

"I didn't even pick her," Ron shrugged. "Harry did, he made some kind of deal with them (referring to the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma) where he'd take Parvati and I'd take Padma. Padma was Ravenclaw, she and I didn't have much in common."

Hermione bit back an icy retort. "I don't know why this even matters to you now," she said instead. "You're a vampire — you could just hypnotize me and make me fall back in love with you."

Ron looked affronted at that. "I wouldn't do that!" he insisted. "Harry and I are going to destroy Voldemort — that's why we were made vampires, not to go around hypnotizing girls so we can drink their blood!"

"Oh, so you're afraid to drink my blood, is that it?" Hermione said, her voice turning shrill. "Would you rather drink _Lavender's_ blood, is that it?"

"You're mental," Ron snorted. "I just wanted to know if you were sorry for being mad at me all that time when we still could've been friends, that's all."

"You wanted to snog Lavender and still be friends with _me_?" Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "And you think _I'm_ mental?" She turned away from him. "Ron, shut it before I send another flock of birds after you!"

Ron glared at her, briefly considering mesmerizing her just to make her apologize for that, when Harry and Dumbledore suddenly appeared, flowing back out of the Pensieve and standing over it.

"I have been hoping for this piece of evidence for a very long time," Dumbledore said to Harry. "It confirms the theory on which I have been working, it tells me that I am right, and also how very far there still is to go…"

Dumbledore stopped, looking past Harry, who turned around to see both Hermione and Ron in strained, angry stances. Hermione looked near tears, and Ron had a stubborn, vexed look on his face. "All right there, Ron?" Harry asked, before the headmaster could speak.

Ron's face twisted. "Yeah," he said after a moment, but Harry caught an eye roll from Hermione; she didn't share his opinion.

"Perhaps, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," Dumbledore suddenly interjected. "You will join Harry and me for a discussion of the memory we've just viewed."

After a moment both of them seemed to relax; they walked over to where Harry and Dumbledore were standing. Hermione moved next to Harry, while Ron stepped to Harry's other side, away from her. The inference wasn't lost on Harry—they'd been arguing while he and the headmaster were in the memory.

Dumbledore gestured toward Harry. "If you would, please… describe what we just saw."

Harry recounted landing in Professor Slughorn's office many years before today. He was much younger then, with thick, shiny, straw-colored hair and a gingery-blond mustache. He was surrounded by a group of boys; among them Tom Riddle. Harry didn't mention that Marvolo Gaunt's gold and black ring was on Riddle's finger.

Riddle made small talk, impressing Slughorn with his knowledge of what was going on with the Hogwarts staff before Slughorn sent them off as the bedtime bell sounded. But Riddle remained behind to ask Slughorn a question. At this point, Harry hesitated. "Sir? Do you want me —"

"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore prompted. "They should both understand what Riddle was trying to accomplish." Harry nodded and continued, recounting that Riddle asked the Slytherin Head of House about Horcruxes. Slughorn explained, after being flattered by Riddle, that a Horcrux was an object used to conceal part of a person's soul, after splitting it. The splitting required an act of murder, a violation against nature, and the part of the soul that had been torn away was placed in the object with a certain spell.

But Riddle's curiosity went beyond even this, Harry continued. He wanted to know if the soul could be split more than once; into, say, seven pieces, since seven was the most powerfully magical number, for example. Slughorn entreated Riddle not to speak of the conversation with anyone else, and Riddle agreed, probably for his own motives, Harry added, before he left the Potion Master's office.

"And that was it," Harry finished. "We left the memory right after."

Hermione was looking stricken. "How awful," she whispered. "That such evil magic exists…"

"It is indeed Dark, horrible magic," Dumbledore concurred. "But I now have no doubt that Tom Riddle used it to make himself immortal. Did you see the ring on Riddle's finger, Harry?"

Harry nodded. Dumbledore then addressed himself to Ron and Hermione. "Riddle was wearing a gold ring inset with a single black stone, a stone he believed was engraved with the family crest of the Gaunt family, from which he obtained it by taking it from his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, after the latter had returned from Azkaban, having spent three years there for using magic in front of a Muggle.

"By then," Dumbledore continued, "Riddle had already created one Horcrux —" Hermione gasped in horror "—which you and Mr. Weasley have already seen, though you did not realize its true nature — Tom Riddle's diary."

"That was a Horcrux," Ron blurted out. "And Ginny had it with her for most of her first year! Why didn't you warn her?"

"I did not know of its true nature, either," Dumbledore explained, "until Tom Riddle appeared to Harry and was destroyed when Harry stabbed the diary with the Basilisk's fang."

"Why didn't you tell us _then_?" Harry asked, sounding faintly accusing.

"I believed you were too young at the time," Dumbledore said, frankly. "As I explained to you at the end of the previous school year, I was reluctant to force you into knowing things I believed only older ears should hear. I now know I was mistaken then, and given your and Mr. Weasley's current condition, you have had ruder shocks than this."

"I'll say!" Ron agreed fervently.

"Quite," Dumbledore nodded. "I must warn all three of you not to say anything to anyone what you've learned here tonight. It is quite imperative that no one in the Wizarding world learns of Horcruxes — since Tom Riddle used the Library and Horace Slughorn's knowledge to learn about them, I have made sure the books were removed so that no other students could learn about them, and Horace has kept his secret until tonight. Now, I think it would be for the best if Miss Granger returns to her dormitory, and the two of you to the Chamber of Secrets, to consider what you have learned here today."

It was evident from the looks Harry, Ron and Hermione gave one another that they'd had other plans in mind after talking to Dumbledore, but —

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, her voice meek and obedient. She turned toward the door, then stopped. "Sir, what should I do if I'm stopped by a prefect or teacher —?"

But Dumbledore was already writing on a piece of parchment. "Here, Miss Granger," he said, holding it out toward her, and it floated through the air to her. "Give that to anyone who stops you, it should suffice to allow you passage this one time to the Gryffindor common room."

Hermione nodded, then gave Harry and Ron both a look before turning and leaving through the great polished oaken door of Dumbledore's office. As she left, Harry heard her thoughts quite clearly. _I hope I don't run into _him_ again_…

_Who did she mean_? Harry wondered. Filch? She had a note from the Headmaster that gave her permission to be out of bed! He listened further, but Hermione's thoughts had turned to making her way back to the Gryffindor common room. Who might she be worried about meeting in the corridors of Hogwarts other than a teacher of prefect? Mrs. Norris? Not much different than meeting Filch, except Mrs. Norris just meowed rather than yelled at you.

"Professor," Harry said suddenly, just as Hermione was passing through the door. "Shouldn't Hermione have the password to your office, in case she finds out something else you need to know?"

Dumbledore did not answer, but Hermione turned around and said, "I already know the password, Harry —" _Toffee éclair_, Harry heard her think, and he mentally filed away the words "— but thank you for thinking I'll find out something else the Headmaster needs to know." With a final nod she closed the office door behind her.

After she was gone, Harry turned back to the headmaster. "Sir, do you think Ron and I might return to the Forbidden Forest? We weren't able to get any blood before Hagrid, uh —"

"Well, I certainly would not deny any of my other students their meals," Dumbledore pointed out. "I see no reason to deny you yours. However, the next time you enter the window, please be quiet; I sleep rather lightly these days."

Harry waited until they were well inside the Forbidden Forest again before he told Ron what he'd overheard from Hermione's thoughts. "I suspect it was Draco Malfoy she almost ran into," he confided to his best friend, in a low voice.

"Yeah, but you suspect Malfoy of pretty near everything bad that happens these days," Ron pointed out. "Not without good cause, mind you."

It was true; Harry was pretty sure Malfoy was doing something for Voldemort — he'd as good as admitted it, in Harry's opinion, while he was talking with Snape before Christmas. _So_ —

"When we get done here," Harry said, his voice still low. "I want us to see if we can find Malfoy or anyone sneaking around the seventh floor."

"Even though we're not supposed to set foot anywhere in the castle except the Headmaster's office or the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron reminded him.

"Right," Harry said

"It's beginning to feel like old times already," Ron grinned.

Several hours later, after each catching a deer and drinking its blood, Ron and Harry were back in the now-deserted Headmaster's office, listening intently for any thoughts or sounds coming from the corridor outside the entrance to the office.

"This isn't quite what I'd envisioned us doing when you said 'I want us to see if we can find Malfoy sneaking around the seventh floor,'" Ron muttered mutinously.

"I don't want us just wandering around the seventh floor like a couple of rebellious first-years," Harry said. "And keep your voice down — I don't want to wake the professor."

Ron made a rude noise — but at least he made it quietly, Harry noticed. "Still not hearing anyone down there?" he asked a minute later, as Harry continued to concentrate on any thoughts coming from the corridor.

"No," Harry murmured. "Still don't hear any heartbeats or breathing?"

"Just a few rats farting," Ron quipped.

They had been at this for a couple of hours now; Harry was beginning to wonder whether Malfoy ever walked down the corridor at all — Hermione had almost run into him near the Gryffindor common room, some distance from the corridor they were surveilling.

"Not long before daylight," Ron observed, looking out the window that faced east, toward the Forbidden Forest. There was a dim glow hovering above the trees in the distance. He was right, Harry thought — they would soon have to go back down to the Chamber of Secrets. Harry glanced at the statue of the troll sitting on Dumbledore's desk; every five minutes it shifted between the chamber and this office. "I think you're going to have to call 'no joy' tonight, Harry."

"Yeah…" Harry agreed, reluctantly. He walked over to the headmaster's desk, standing beside Ron in front of the troll statue Portkey. They both placed their fingers on it as it flashed in preparation to whisking them back to the Chamber of Secrets.

_ …Stupid damned cat…making me go out of my way down this corridor… _

It was Malfoy's thoughts, Harry realized, as he turned toward the door of the office, taking his finger off the statue. Ron's head turned with his; therefore, he missed Harry removing his finger. The statue flashed blue and it and Ron disappeared in a flash of whirling color.

_Ron's gonna be pissed_, Harry thought, but his primary concern was now finding out what Malfoy was up to. He stepped through the door to the office then paused at the top of the spiral staircase, listening. …Not sure which way to go… where is that corridor, anyway… Must be this way… Malfoy's thoughts were beginning to fade as he moved further down the corridor. Harry waited several seconds, until Malfoy seemed to turn a corner. He didn't want the Slytherin to hear the entrance to Dumbledore's office opening.

Finally stepping out into the seventh-floor corridor, Harry listened carefully for Malfoy's heartbeat and breathing. In the many corridors of Hogwarts, it was slightly harder to tell where a heartbeat was coming from. Harry made a decision and began moving down the corridor, trying to detect whether he was getting closer or further from the heartbeat.

Another heartbeat suddenly impinged on his senses — beating faster but much softer than Malfoy's. He listened for any thoughts but heard nothing. Harry moved into the shadows of a nearby corner and became motionless, watching. A few seconds later Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, came into view. The cat seemed to be looking for Malfoy; it passed within six feet of where Harry stood without so much as a glance in his direction. _Must be on a mission from Filch_, Harry thought, humorlessly. The dratted cat was going to mess up him tailing Malfoy!

Mrs. Norris rounded a corner some distance away and Harry began moving again. At the corner he stopped and listened; Malfoy had gone straight at this intersection — Mrs. Norris had lost the scent, somehow! Harry continued straight down the corridor as well, following Malfoy.

Malfoy was evidently as lost as Mrs. Norris had been; he was wandering up and down corridors on the seventh floor seemingly at random. Why was he even up here, Harry wondered. At length he stopped, trying to tune into Malfoy's thoughts. _Where's that damned thing_…? _This corridor_…? …_that stupid cat_… _wait, here it is_!... _Now I just need to_ —

Padded footsteps were approaching from behind Harry; it was Mrs. Norris again! Harry looked around quickly but there was no convenient dark corner for him to fade into, nor any rooms nearby. He could hear the cat's footsteps coming closer, closer. There was only one avenue left open to him.

Harry stepped closer to the nearest wall and began climbing it, using small indentations in the stone to pull himself up close to the ceiling. He moved so he pressed himself into the edge of the wall against the ceiling, then looked back down to the floor, watching as Mrs. Norris trotted by. The cat stopped just below him and seemed to look around, as if it expected to find someone nearby. Finally it turned and walked back the way it had come.

After a few moments Harry dropped soundlessly to the floor. _That was close_, he admonished himself. He listened for Malfoy's thoughts, but nothing reached him. More mysteriously, the sound of his heartbeat and breathing had disappeared as well. Harry walked slowly around the nearest corner and into the corridor beyond.

The corridor seemed familiar to him. He'd obviously come this way at times during his time as a student. He stopped for a moment, listening, but the only sounds he heard was the fading heartbeats of Mrs. Norris. Where had Malfoy gone? On his left was a wall tapestry, an image of a wild-eyed man trying to instruct trolls in the ballet—the half-dozen monstrosities in the picture were clothed in out-sized tutus, trying to balance on their toes. The image always brought an involuntary smile to Harry's lips, even now. He would see this thing every time he came out of —

Harry whirled to face the bare wall across from the tapestry. The Room of Requirement! This is where the entrance was! Harry slapped himself on the top of his head for not thinking of it sooner! Draco knew where the Room was — he was one of the Inquisitional Squad members that came looking for them after Marietta Edgecombe ratted them out to Dolores Umbridge. Harry's fists tightened in anger as he thought of Umbridge — she was almost worth draining, even if it turned him Dark forever.

Harry stepped closer to the blank wall, determined to get inside and see what Draco was up to. Would it work for him even if he was no longer magical? There was only one way to find out. Harry began pacing back and forth in front of the wall, thinking, _I need to find out what Draco Malfoy is up to, I need to get into the room where he's at_. But even after pacing back and forth a dozen times, the door to the Room of Requirement wouldn't open. Harry stopped, discouraged. He would have to get Hermione here sometime, have her try to open the door.

Or… he could have Neville do it now! Harry directed a thought toward his old dorm room. _Neville, wake up and come to the corridor where the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy is located_. Neville's disjoined, sleepy thoughts came back to him. _Wha —? Oh, yes, right away, Master_.

_Oh, and mind you watch for Mrs. Norris_, Harry added, wincing as Neville called him "Master." A few minutes later Neville padded into the corridor, looking like he was sleepwalking. "You called for me, Master?" Neville said blearily, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Don't call me 'Master,'" Harry hissed. "Just call me 'Harry' — and don't forget, you still think I'm dead and you're just dreaming about me.

Neville nodded obediently. "What do you wish of me, Mas— er, Harry?"

Harry pointed to the wall they stood in front of. "You remember the Room of Requirement?" Neville nodded again. "Well, Draco Malfoy is inside there, plotting some kind of harm to befall Professor Dumbledore." Neville's face, even half-asleep, showed shock and concern.

"What can I do to help, uh, Harry?" he asked.

Briefly Harry explained that he wanted Neville to try and get into the Room. He wasn't sure what Malfoy was up to in there, but it was almost certainly no good and would bring harm to the Headmaster. Neville was to use those facts in his need to get into the room.

Harry watched tensely for nearly twenty minutes as Neville paced back and forth in front of the wall, repeating phrases over and over again. "I need to see what Malfoy is planning. I need to find out what Malfoy is up to. I need to find Draco Malfoy." But the Room refused to open.

Harry could sense the oncoming sunrise. He was going to have to get back to Dumbledore's office pretty quickly; the Portkey would transfer back to the Chamber in about two minutes (Harry had been keeping track with his watch). If he missed that it would be another ten minutes before the transfer worked again, and the sun would be up by then. Harry could stay awake a little past sunrise, but ten minutes would be pushing his luck. "Neville, stop."

Neville stopped pacing and looked passively at Harry. "Go back to bed," Harry commanded him. "_Forget about what I've just had you do. If anyone asks why you're up, pretend to be sleepwalking_." Neville turned and walked away slowly toward the Gryffindor common room. Harry then hurried back to the corridor where the stone gargoyle guarded the secret entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Toffee éclair," he said, and the gargoyle jumped aside, giving him access to the spiral staircase. At the top of the steps, Harry quickly opened the polished door to the office and stepped inside. As expected, the Portkey statue was sitting on Dumbledore's desk. There was also a thin shaft of sunlight, the very beginning of sunrise, coming through the east window. Unfortunately, it was very close to the statue, and Harry would have to go around it to reach the Portkey. He moved quickly to the far edge of the room, walking around its curvature until he was past the shaft of sunlight. He reached for the statue —

—which suddenly disappeared in a puff of whirling color. "Dammit!" Harry muttered. It would be five minutes before the statue reappeared, and another five before it could return him to the Chamber of Secrets! Already tiredness and lethargy were beginning to settle into his limbs; Harry doubted he could last another ten minutes, even in only reflected sunlight. He looked around frantically, wondering if there was any place he could hide himself while he waited for the statue to reappear. The room had many shelves, and upon them many, many books, but there was no way to hide himself in the shelves, nor in the black cabinet where Dumbledore kept his Pensieve. Harry might have hidden in the space beneath the desk, but he would be discovered by Dumbledore the moment the headmaster sat down. Harry turned to a second door, one that he knew must lead to the Headmaster's private quarters, but even as he tried to open it he knew it would fail — he needed Dumbledore's permission to enter, and he was asleep. "Professor!" Harry said loudly, but there was no response. He could hear the sound of a low, steady snoring from the room, but no heartbeat. Why couldn't he hear the headmaster's heart beating? He turned to the perch behind the entrance to the office, but Fawkes was not there. Was he in the bedchamber with Dumbledore? Harry couldn't hear the phoenix's heartbeat, either.

Three more minutes until the statue reappeared. Eight more before it could take him back to the Chamber; Harry was fast beginning to weaken as sunrise came on. He had to get out of the sunlight very quickly or risk falling unconscious and being destroyed by the light before Dumbledore could find him! His eyes suddenly fell on another window, one in which someone looking out it could see the Quidditch pitch in the distance, near the west wall of the grounds. If the window faced west —

Harry moved to the window, avoiding the widening shaft of morning sunlight from the east window. He opened it and looked down. A portion of the castle's roof was directly below it, its edge showing a seven-story drop to the ground along the north edge of the castle. The north side of the castle was still in shadow. Harry could make it to the ground — if he could handle the seven-story drop.

There wasn't really much choice. Harry stepped up on the window sill, then stepped off, trying to use his power of flight to slow his descent. He landed heavily on the roof of the castle, breaking loose some of the stone tiling. His fall hadn't been as controlled as he'd liked, but he'd made the approximately three-story jump. The next seven stories might be more difficult…

…unless he _climbed_ down the wall, just as he'd climbed up the corridor wall to evade Mrs. Norris! Harry walked to the edge of the roof, then climbed over the edge, taking hold of the wall and lowering himself downwards. As with the corridor wall, small indentations in the side of the castle enabled him to support himself on the way down; fortunately the castle wall was rougher than the corridor had been, because Harry's strength was beginning to wane. He climbed down as fast as he was able, though he did not want to fall before he reached the third floor — that was the furthest he thought he could fall without sustaining injury.

He was beginning to feel hot. Harry glanced at the skin on his hands, saw that they were beginning to blister; even reflected sunlight from the grass and walls to the north of him was affecting him. Near the fourth floor, Harry decided to jump and fly as hard as he could — with any luck he wouldn't be badly damaged in the fall. He let go of the wall, falling faster and faster even though he was pushing upward as hard as he could, and slammed into the ground next to the castle wall.

Surprisingly, he wasn't hurt, though his weakness was making it difficult to move. Harry dug his hands into the ground; it was hard-packed and difficult to break through, but Harry's strength was still enough to open up a hole big enough for him to lean into, pressing the soil below aside so he could slip into the ground feet first. He worked his legs, deepening the hole, and with his hands broke apart the ground above him, caving in the hole he'd just made.

Now, a few feet beneath the ground, in total darkness, he felt sleep once again encompassing him. Harry closed his eyes, hoping that no one would notice the slight depression in the ground where he'd caved it in above him. _Especially_ not Hagrid, who as Groundskeeper would be likely to notice if he happened to come this way during the day. If he did, Harry might never wake up if the giant unearthed him into the daytime sunlight. But it was too late to worry about that now, as sleep overtook him.


	11. Stalking the Wily Malfoy

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant  
><strong>**Chapter Eleven  
><strong>"**Stalking the Wily Malfoy"**

Updated February 10, 2012

"Git back 'ere, Fang! Where yeh running off to?"

Harry's eyes snapped open, which did him hardly any good, since he was buried in the ground outside Hogwarts castle. His vampiric senses told him that the sun was still high in the sky — he'd never awakened this long before sunset since he'd become a vampire. Why had he awakened so early?

There was activity above him. Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, was sniffing and scratching at the spot where he'd entered the ground. He could also hear Hagrid's massive footfalls approaching. "Get away from there, yeh silly dog!" he heard Hagrid shout. "We ain't got time ter go looking for enny of yer lost bones!" The scratching suddenly stopped, and Harry heard Hagrid's footstep moving away, along with Fang's excited barking.

After a few moments Harry realized what a near-miss he'd had. He was buried only a couple of feet below the surface of the ground; Fang might've dug deep enough to expose him to sunlight, which would have killed him. Fortunately Hagrid had thought Fang was after a bone, and had stopped his digging. Harry would have to hope that Fang didn't get free any time before nightfall and return to have another go at finding out what was buried here. As Hagrid's scolding of Fang and the dog's barking faded into the distance, Harry felt the by-now familiar torpor come over him again, and he lapsed back to sleep.

When Harry awoke again, despite the warmth of the soil around him, he could tell that the sun had just set. There was motion above him, however, and he froze, listening carefully for anything that would reveal who it was.

"He wouldn't have gone far from the window," a man's voice said, which Harry identified as Sanguini. "That places him somewhere in this area."

"Right there," another voice said, after a few moments. That one was Ron. Harry sighed with relief. "Harry, if you can hear us, you can come up now."

Harry pushed himself out of the ground. He was a mess, with dirt covering his face and clothing. "I missed the last Portkey," he said, unnecessarily.

"Yeah, we figured that," Ron said, dryly. "Almost expected to find a bunch of ash beneath the window to Dumbledore's office, or in it."

Harry was shaking dirt off himself. A Scourgify spell would sure come in handy right about now! "I didn't have anywhere to hide up in his office, and I couldn't get him to come out of his bed chamber to help me."

"Because he wasn't there," Sanguini told him. "He's still not back from wherever he went — Ron listened to several people walking by the entrance. No one has a clue where he went."

"Oh!" Harry said, reminded. "I figured out where Malfoy was going — into the Room of Requirement!"

"What is the Room of Requirement?" Sanguini asked, looking baffled.

"It's a room where you can get just about anything you need, if your need is great enough," Harry explained. "We used it during fifth-year as a place to practice Defensive magic since our Defense teacher at the time was afraid if we learned magic we would use it to overthrow Cornelius Fudge."

Sanguini smiled, shaking his head. "The Minister of Magic was afraid of a bunch of fifth-year students taking over Wizarding Britain? How droll!"

"You've never met Dolores Umbridge," Ron retorted darkly.

Sanguini raised an eyebrow. "Umbridge? Oh, but I _have_ met her! It was several years ago, at a Ministry function attended by Worple. She was a junior undersecretary at the time, not even a member of the Wizengamot. She was quite an unpleasant person, as I remember — absolutely against any kind of reform for vampires' rights. She seemed to think that anything other than a wizard was subhuman and therefore beneath her notice."

"That's her," Harry nodded grimly, brushing off dirt that had been ground in his hair. "I understand she's still at the Ministry despite her atrocious treatment of students here at the school."

"She probably has something on Rufus Scrimgeour or several members of the Wizengamot, enough to keep herself in place at the Ministry," Sanguini theorized.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, a sudden thought making him grin wickedly. "She found out Scrimgeour is a vampire."

"_What_?" Ron yelped, then "Oh! — that was what you said Luna thought, isn't it? Good one, Harry!" And Ron grinned wickedly along with his friend.

"I hate to spoil your little mutual admiration society," Sanguini said, blandly, "but we should get back to the Chamber before someone walks by and discovers us."

"What?" Harry yelped. "We haven't even gotten something to eat yet!"

"Von Necros' orders," Sanguini said, flatly. Harry looked at Ron, who just shrugged, looking defeated. "He wants you to keep a low profile the next day or so."

"But we have to eat —"

"No, you don't," Sanguini disagreed. "You both fed well last night — your bodies will be able to go without for another few days before you begin to feel the effects of a lack of blood."

"When are we going to hear from von Necros again?" Harry asked, stalling for a little more time outside. "Has he come up with a plan for me and Ron to go against Voldemort?"

"He is working on one," Sanguini replied. "He will return to us within another week or so, to see how things are progressing here."

"_Progressing_?" Ron gave the half-vampire a disgusted look. "We're not _doing_ anything here except eating and sleeping! And anyway, I thought the point was for us to learn how to use our abilities, not poke around in the sewers beneath Hogwarts!" Harry nodded agreement.

"Are you planning to disobey your Maker?" Sanguini asked, his expression dangerous.

"He'd better make up his mind what he wants us to do, then," Harry retorted. "_He_ Made _us_, remember? I didn't ask for this, and neither did Ron — we're just going along because we want to see the end of Voldemort, not because we like being vampires!"

After a moment, Ron added, "But it is kind of cool, you know…"

"Not the _point_, Ron!" Harry said, a bit more shrilly than he'd intended. Ron had acclimated to being a vampire faster than Harry had anticipated — he was perhaps even more used to the idea than Harry himself. "Everyone in your family thinks you and I are _dead_! We can never see any of them again!"

"I know, I know," Ron muttered. "Still… it would be a bloody cool prank to pull on Fred and George, showing up one night in their shop."

"Aaaack," Harry said, throwing up his hands. "I give up!"

"You know you can't do that, Ron," Sanguini admonished him. "No one in the Wizarding world can know about the existence of true vampires, save for our allies, like Dumbledore and —" Sanguini hesitated a moment, "— others like him."

"Like Snape?" Harry growled. He was beginning to get angry, knowing that Snape was somehow fooling both Dumbledore and von Necros. "I thought I saw him leave von Necros' castle the night I first went to Hogwarts."

Sanguini stared at him a long moment. "You must've been mistaken, Harry."

"_Am_ I?" Harry said, coldly. He concentrated on Sanguini's thoughts, but there was nothing he could read. He couldn't seem to read the half-vampire. Come to think of it, he'd never heard any of Ron's thoughts, either. "Ron, think of a number between one and ten."

"Huh?" Ron looked puzzled at the request.

"Just think of one," Harry repeated.

"Er — okay, got it." Harry concentrated, but again there was nothing. Finally, he seemed to get a dim image.

"Two?" Harry guessed.

"No, seven," Ron said. "Were you trying to read my thoughts just then?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Most vampires cannot hear one another's thoughts," Sanguini explained. "They can hear the thoughts of humans, especially ones they've drunk from, and quite well from human servants and half-vampires such as myself, but not between vampires, not even ones they've Made."

"That's something else about vampires you've failed to mention so far," Harry pointed out. "It's not inspiring a lot of trust in you."

"We need to get back to the Chamber," Sanguini said, ignoring Harry's comment. Harry and Ron both gave him mutinous looks. "Look," Sanguini said at last. "I'll talk to von Necros, see if he will allow you out tomorrow night to feed."

"Fine," Harry said, flatly. "What else?"

Ron spoke up unexpectedly. "Why was Malfoy looking for the Room of Requirement?"

"I wish I knew," Harry replied, darkly. "Up to no good, most likely."

"Malfoy is the least of your worries," Sanguini admonished them both.

"You don't know Malfoy," Ron pointed out.

"He was probably the one behind that poisoned mead — _and_ that cursed necklace that hurt Susan Bones," Harry added. "I'm pretty sure he's trying to kill Dumbledore. We can't let that happen!"

"Albus Dumbledore is quite capable of taking care of himself," Sanguini said firmly. "You will _not_ disobey your Maker and try to follow him!"

"Reading our thoughts, are you?" Ron asked, his voice hard.

"I can't read your thoughts, Ron," the half-vampire replied. "But given your obvious animosity toward Malfoy, it was a reasonable guess."

"So we just have to sit in the Chamber of Secrets and do nothing?" Harry spat out, clearly annoyed at the idea of Malfoy enjoying freedom he and Ron couldn't have. "Is that what von Necros has us reduced to?"

"I'll talk to him about his plans," Sanguini said at last. "See if he has any ideas on what the two of you should be doing to prepare. _Now_ will you two come back to the Chamber?"

=ooo=

Midnight had barely finished striking when the tall, sallow-faced man appeared just outside the forest behind von Necros' castle, barely beyond the area protected by its Anti-Apparition jinx. Unhurriedly, he made his way to the back of the castle, passing through a secret door known to but a few, then through the darkened corridors to the castle's Great Hall, where von Necros sat in his Great Chair, looking pensive. Von Necros looked up as the man entered the hall. "Ah, I see you are here at last."

"I was detained by other duties," the man said, in a slow, flat voice.

"Your duty to Dumbledore, I take it?" von Necros asked.

"My duty as a teacher at Hogwarts," Snape answered coldly. "I do not expect you to understand, nor are my duties to Dumbledore relevant to what we are doing."

"We all have our duties, Snape," von Necros reminded him. "You have your duty to Dumbledore, to your school, and you have your duty to me. You should not forget that."

"I don't." Snape gave von Necros a baleful stare, moving toward the front of the Great Hall, to within a dozen yards of the vampire. "Need I remind you, you have your obligations as well — the most important of which is to formulate a plan using Potter to eliminate the Dark Lord."

"I have been considering it," von Necros nodded. He stood and moved away from his chair, though no closer to Snape. "It is a difficult proposition, considering that the Grand Coven is working on its own plans regarding your Dark Lord."

Snape said nothing, but kept his eyes locked on the vampire.

"At the moment they are still continuing their holding pattern of negotiations," von Necros said, making a gesture of frustration. "They don't seem to realize that the longer they delay, the more Voldemort consolidates his power."

"Even more so now," Snape amplified. "He has recently conducted another breakout of certain key prisoners from Azkaban. Avery, Crabbe, Goyle and Dolohov were among those freed, along with Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord has set up headquarters at Malfoy Manor."

"Interesting," von Necros mused. "Why would he hide in such an obvious place?"

"As I've related to you before," Snape replied, his tone still cold and flat, "the Dark Lord has been infiltrating the Ministry for some time now. He orchestrated the election of Rufus Scrimgeour as Minister of Magic, who has worked to adopt a hard-line attitude toward the Dark Lord's return; what he does not realize is that several of his underlings are either loyal to the Dark Lord or have been Imperiused to be so. Arthur Weasley was transferred from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office to become the Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects, to distract him from his trips to the Malfoy estate in order to find contraband on Malfoy's property."

"That won't help him or Voldemort if someone else at the Ministry decides to search the estate," von Necros pointed out.

"Pius Thicknesse is Head Auror under Scrimgeour," Snape replied. "Yaxley has already Imperiused him, so any action against Malfoy or other affluent wizards loyal to the Dark Lord are unlikely."

"You have quite a bit of inside information," von Necros smiled at the Defense instructor. "You must have Voldemort's trust."

"As much as anyone can," Snape drawled. "I have been useful to him over the years. I sincerely hope your plans do not upset that status quo." He glanced back at the far wall of the Great Hall, where a large timepiece hung. Nearly a half-hour had elapsed since he had arrived. "If you have nothing else for me, I will return to Hogwarts."

"There is one other thing." Von Necros had an almost gleeful expression on his pallid face as he asked, "Sanguini has contacted you about the current location of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?"

Snape frowned. "No. Why should he? They are here at your castle, aren't they?"

"We've had to move them," von Necros said, smiling. "As insurance against the Grand Coven coming here to ensure their demise."

There was a dangerous glint in Snape's eyes. "Where did you move them to?"

"Hogwarts. In the Chamber of Secrets."

There was absolute silence in the Great Hall as Snape glared at the vampire. "That seems like an extraordinarily risky thing to do, both for Potter and Weasley, and the other students at the school. Does Dumbledore know about this?"

"He gave me his blessings on the matter."

"And what will you do when the Grand Coven arrives _here_ to make sure you've dealt with the two of them?" Snape asked, his voice low.

"I will deal with that matter when it arises," von Necros replied, waving a long, thin hand airily about.

Snape did not move for several seconds. When he did, it was only to incline his head briefly and say, "I do not agree with you and Dumbledore on the placement of those two, but it is quite obvious my opinion was neither wanted nor solicited. Therefore, I leave it to you and your _servant_ —" said with contempt "— to keep them in check, lest they allow themselves to be discovered and pursued by fearful students or even the residents of Hogsmeade."

Snape turned away, his outward thoughts filled with frustration and anger, yet the cold anticipation he felt did not reach further than the slight smile that quirked his lips, as he walked out of the Great Hall and the castle, to disappear along with the rest of him as he reached the edge of the Anti-Apparition jinx.

=ooo=

Ginny entered the Great Hall at breakfast time on Saturday and made a beeline to where Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, nibbling on a piece of toast with butter and jam. She sat down across from her fellow Gryffindor, glancing left and right to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear. "Did you get it?"

Hermione nodded, not looking up at Ginny. The youngest Weasley watched her for several seconds, then asked, "Did you take it to Professor Dumbledore?"

Hermione cleared her throat, took a sip of water. It almost seemed as if she was reluctant to answer. Finally, "I did."

"So?" Ginny leaned forward expectantly. "What did you find out?"

"I—" Hermione looked very uncomfortable. "Professor Dumbledore said I couldn't tell you." At the look of betrayal in Ginny's eyes Hermione blanched and whispered pleadingly, "I'm sorry, Ginny! It's very important no one else know!"

"And you don't think I can keep a _secret_?" Ginny hissed angrily. "I've never told anyone else about that diary and what Harry told me happened down there!"

"I know," Hermione agreed. "I haven't either, and neither did Harry or Ron! It's just —"

"Just _what_?" Ginny demanded. "Is it just too cool for anyone except you, Harry and my brother to know? How many other secrets have all of you been keeping from me?"

"Nothing, I swear!" Hermione cried, almost in tears because of Ginny's outrage. She was right, in a way — there were more secrets to be kept than just the Horcruxes. Harry and Ron were _vampires _— _that_ secret had to be kept as well. Hagrid had seen them as well, but Harry'd said he would only remember it as a dream. Neville had seen him as well. And Luna — heaven only knew what she knew about all this, but if she'd said anything to Ginny, Ginny wasn't taking it seriously. "Ginny, I—"

"Save it," Ginny said flatly, standing up. "You don't want to tell me, fine. Keep your secrets. But don't expect me to like it, and don't think I'm going to forget it, either. See you around." Hermione tried to reach out to her, to stop her from leaving, but Ginny had spun on her heel and stalked away.

Hermione chewed her lip fretfully. Ginny was upset, she understood that, but Professor Dumbledore had said it was important to keep the information _secret_. She glanced down the table, where Ginny had seated herself next to Dean and was filling her plate with food. Hermione closed her eyes unhappily, hoping she hadn't alienated Ginny permanently. She wished she could talk to Ron, get his input on his sister's behavior. Maybe there was some way Ginny could be included in the secret.

=ooo=

Draco crept quietly up the staircase leading to the seventh floor, the one closest to the corridor where the Room of Hidden Things was located. He had not been able to leave the Slytherin common room until well after midnight, cutting into the time he had to work. A sense of apprehension kept him from hurrying through the darkened corridors, however — the night before, he'd thought he'd heard footsteps outside the Room as he'd worked on his project. Someone was trying to follow him, he felt sure of it. It couldn't be Potter or Weasley, naturally—both of them were dead. He might have suspected that Crabbe or Goyle were trying to spy on him since he stopped having them guard the outside of the Room, but they were both too large and clumsy to shadow him without his knowledge. He'd waited in hidden alcoves watching for them, but neither of them were following him. Still, being careful was prudent.

Soon Malfoy came upon a corner with a large vase standing nearby. The Room of Hidden Things was down the corridor from this vase, the entrance was on the wall opposite a tapestry of some idiot trying to teach trolls to dance. Draco glanced back at the vase, instinct warning him that someone could be hiding behind it. There was no one there, however, so he continued quietly down the corridor to where he would perform the ritual that would gain him access to the room.

Concentrating intently, Draco walked in front of the door, thinking, _I need to enter the Room of Lost Things to work on the Vanishing Cabinet_! He turned around, repeating the thought in his head, then turned back for the final pass.

"Just what do you think you're doing, Malfoy?"

Malfoy stepped back, startled. The Mudblood Granger was standing before him, staring at him with a cold and calculating gaze. _How_ had she found him? She _couldn't_ have followed him — Malfoy had taken care to check behind him often as he made his way here.

Hermione had on a stern expression, but inwardly she was very apprehensive about confronting Malfoy alone. She wished Ginny hadn't gotten upset with her — it would be good to have her here right now! Still, once she saw Malfoy sneaking onto the seventh floor, she followed him beneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak to see where he was going. Now that they were standing outside the Room of Requirement, it became clear that Malfoy was up to no good, that Harry had been right about him all along!

"I —" Malfoy began, trying to come up with a plausible reason for him to be here, when— "Wait a minute," he frowned. "It's none of your business anyway, but I'm patrolling the corridors with Parkinson."

"And where is Pansy, anyway?" Hermione asked, archly. "Aren't you supposed to patrol together?"

"I might ask you the same question," Draco sneered. "I don't see Thomas with you."

Hermione flinched inwardly. She'd known as soon as she'd mentioned Pansy Parkinson's name that it hadn't been a good idea, that Malfoy would throw it back in her face. "Dean w-wasn't feeling well tonight," she stammered. The truth was, he'd ditched patrol that evening for a date with some fifth-year girl.

"A likely story," Malfoy said, smugly. It was obvious the Mudblood was lying. It also became obvious, Malfoy noticed, that from the way she held her arm against her robe that Granger was concealing something beneath it. He stepped forward suddenly, grabbing her arm and pulling it away from her side. Hermione jerked her arm away from him but it was too late — a silvery-gray cloak dropped out of her robe onto the floor.

Hermione immediately bent down to pick it up, but Malfoy pushed her away and she staggered back, barely able to keep her balance. "So," Malfoy said, picking up the cloak. "I'd wondered what had become of this since Potter croaked. I see you managed to get your hands on it somehow."

"It's just a —" Hermione began, but Malfoy shook his head.

"Don't bother lying, Granger," he said, grinning maliciously at her. "I _know_ what it is — Potter tried to use this to spy on me on the train ride here at the beginning of the year." He wadded the Cloak up and stuffed it into his robe. "Since Potter doesn't need it anymore I'll just keep it."

"You can't —!" Hermione blurted out, taking a step toward him, but Malfoy's other hand was suddenly pointing his wand at her.

"I can't?" he repeated nastily. "Says who — _you_, Granger? You can't even keep it safe, Granger! You're obviously not worthy of a valuable item like this."

"You can't just take it, Malfoy!" Hermione gasped, nearly beside herself. She _couldn't_ lose Harry's Invisibility Cloak! _Harry, Ron, I'm so sorry_! she thought to herself. _I've failed you_!

"You're not in any position to make statements like that, Mudblood." Draco waggled his wand at her. He was beginning to enjoy this — it was one of the few times this year he felt like he had control over what he was doing. "It's late. Why don't you go on back to your common room now?"

"No," Hermione said, with a defiant toss of her head. It was perfectly clear that Malfoy intended to enter the Room of Requirement, and she wasn't about to let him do that, not if she had any say in the matter! "I'm not leaving until you do, Malfoy. And I'm going to make sure Professor McGonagall knows about you coming up to the seventh floor."

Draco's face hardened dangerously. "I don't think so," he said, leveling his wand directly at her face. "_Obliviate_!"

But Hermione was moving even as Malfoy shouted out the spell — a flash of light streaked past her as she dodged to one side, drawing her own wand as she did so. Even as she pointed it at him, however, the wand suddenly leaped from her hand. Malfoy had non-verbally cast _Expelliarmus_ on her! The wand flew behind her, toward the large vase where she'd been hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. She scrambled back toward it, expecting a Stunner (or worse ) in the back as Malfoy followed up his attack.

Hermione plucked her wand off the floor, letting her momentum carry her into the corner where she dodged behind the large vase, then poked her wand out and shouted "_Impedimenta_!" hoping to catch him off-guard. There was a _crack_ as the spell bounced off a wall — she'd missed and was now pinned down. Malfoy could blow up the vase, Vanish it, or even disappear into the Room of Requirement, and she'd lose him! She risked a quick peek from behind the vase.

Malfoy was gone.

Frowning, confused, Hermione emerged slowly from behind the vase, then walked toward where she'd last seen him. Had he run? As long as Malfoy had an advantage, he'd probably stay and fight, she surmised. And he did have an advantage, especially since he had the —

Too late, she realized what the Slytherin had probably done. Even as she decided to run herself, her wand suddenly flew out of her hand, this time spinning into the darkness beyond her. At the same time something slammed into her, knocking her down.

"Not very smart, Granger," Malfoy's laughing voice came out of the air in front of her. "I thought you were supposed to be the brightest witch of your age. It should've been _obvious_ that I would use Potter's Invisibility Cloak."

"Alright, you win," Hermione said dejectedly. "Let me have my wand and I promise I'll leave without making any more trouble."

Malfoy's voice chuckled nastily. "Oh no, Granger, you're _not_ getting off that easily now, not when you cost me time and effort on my project."

"You're going to Obliviate me?" Hermione experienced a shiver of horror at that thought. "Have you ever even _performed_ a Memory Charm before?"

"Don't worry about that," Malfoy's voice sneered. "Father's let me practice on the odd Muggle or two, over the summer and Christmas breaks. But you're not getting off with just a Memory Charm, Mudblood — and when you finish doing what I tell you to do, you'll _beg_ me to Obliviate you! Now get on your knees!"

Hermione suddenly knew what Malfoy planned for her, and shook her head wildly. "I — I _can't_! Not that, Draco! That's positively _gross_!"

Draco pointed his wand menacingly. "Either willingly or under the Imperius Curse, Mudblood — it's all the same to me. And you'd better believe I know how to do the Imperius!" Malfoy threw off the Cloak, grinning malevolently at her. "Now if I use the Imperius, I won't even have to Obliviate you. I'll just command you never to tell anyone what you did — and will continue to do — for me. Now _get on your knees_!"

Hermione felt physically ill at the prospect of — of what Malfoy was forcing her to do — she could barely articulate the concept in her brain. At least if he Obliviated her, she wouldn't remember the humiliation, the degradation…

But if Malfoy Obliviated her, she realized, he could just as easily Imperius her as well! She was going to have to try something desperate. Slowly, she got up on her knees, the cold stone floor quickly making her uncomfortable.

Malfoy, sneering as he stepped closer to her, parted his robes and exposed himself. "Go on," he told her. "Get busy — and no teeth."

Hermione stared, revolted at Malfoy's member, already stiff and pointed almost straight up. Could she do this? _Yes, you can_! she told herself. _You don't have any other option_!

Hermione opened her mouth and leaned slowly forward, reaching up with her left hand to take hold of him, to hold him steady. The turgid flesh felt hard in her hand, the first time she had ever touched one. Her mouth neared the tip…

Her right hand came up unexpectedly, balled into a fist, and slammed into Malfoy's testicles. Malfoy howled and doubled over as Hermione let go of him and pushed herself away, falling on her side and rolling out of his reach.

"Nnnggggh," Malfoy gasped, falling forward and curling around himself in agony. His wand clattered on the ground in front of him, and Hermione kicked out, knocking it out of Malfoy's reach.

Hermione rolled to her feet and dashed behind Malfoy, trying to guess where her wand had landed. Very little light was coming in from the window at the end of the corridor, and she dropped to the floor feeling frantically for her wand, trying to find it before Malfoy recovered. Behind her, she could hear him gasping and cursing as he writhed on the floor. Where was her wand? She considered going back to grab Malfoy's wand and use it to _Accio_ hers, but as she looked back she saw it had taken a bad bounce (for her) and was still close to Malfoy. She had to find hers fast!

Finally, a very faint glint of light reflected off her wand and she grabbed it frantically, rising to her feet even as Malfoy, blindly scrabbling about, found his. Forcing his eyes open against the tears streaming from them, Malfoy pointed his wand in her direction and shouted "_Stupefy_!"

The red bolt went wide as Hermione threw herself to one side. But now unbalanced, she fell against the corridor wall just beyond the tapestry. Still fighting, she pointed her wand at Malfoy and screamed, "_Expelliarmus_!" Her spell missed as well. She shouted the spell again, aiming more carefully, but Malfoy managed to erect a Shield Charm as she did so, and the shield flashed as the Disarming Charm bounced off it. Hermione quickly erected her own shield.

Both of them got to their feet. Draco was leaning forward, still dealing with the pain in his bits. "You goddam bitch," he gasped. "You're going to die for that!"

"No she's not," another, familiar voice spoke. At the same moment Draco was suddenly lifted off his feet and slammed against the wall. Malfoy instinctively pointed his wand at his new assailant but it was suddenly jerked from his hand and flew in Hermione's direction. As she watched the wand hit the floor and bounced several times, finally rolling to a stop at her feet.

"You're dead, too!" Malfoy snarled, but as he recognized the face of the person pinning him to the wall, his expression turned to amazement and horror. "_You_!" he sputtered, almost forgetting the pain that was still radiating from his groin. "You're _dead_!"

"Not quite," Ron Weasley growled, baring his lengthening fangs in a rictus of rage. "But for what you tried to do to Hermione, you're about to be, Malfoy!"


	12. The Grand Coven Strikes Back

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant  
><strong>Chapter Twelve  
>"<strong>The Grand Coven Strikes Back"<strong>

Updated March 10, 2012

"If anyone needed killing," Ron hissed, "it's _you_, Malfoy!" His fangs were fully extended now, and he reached up, pushing Malfoy's head to one side, baring the Slytherin's neck. Malfoy struggled but he was no match for Ron's vampiric strength.

At that same moment Hermione raised her wand in the air and silently cast _Lumos _— the spell filled the corridor around them with light.

"Ron, no!" she cried out, horrified by what she saw despite Malfoy's actions moments earlier. "You can't just kill him in cold blood!"

"Oh, his blood's not cold," Ron said, with grim humor. "It may be a bit too _pure_ for my taste, but I'll risk it." Malfoy whimpered in fear as Ron's fangs moved closer and closer to his pale, bare neck.

"_Stop_!" a voice suddenly commanded from behind Hermione. She whirled about in surprise to find Professor Snape, wand drawn and pointed toward Ron, an expression of rage on his sallow features. "Put — that — student — down!" he commanded.

Ron turned slowly to look at Snape, unimpressed by the Defense professor's sudden appearance. "Are you here to defend this little ferret for almost raping Hermione? I wouldn't be a bit surprised, you know," he sneered, insolently.

"Let him go!" Snape ordered again. "You've caused quite enough problems already, Weasley — don't compound them with murder."

Malfoy was staring back and forth between Snape and Weasley in shock and disbelief. "You — you _knew_ he was alive?" he sputtered at Snape. "What the hell is this —"

"Quiet, Draco," the Defense professor snapped at him. "I will explain in due course —"

Ron barked a laugh. He took a step back, away from Malfoy, who crumpled to the floor. "Explain?" he sneered at Snape, who continued to point his wand at Ron's chest. "You're going to _explain_ why Malfoy poisoned the mead that killed me, how he meant it for Professor Dumbledore? _Explain_ that I'm now a vampire and that you knew about it, and have been sneaking out of Hogwarts to visit the vampire that's responsible for making _me_ one as well? That's pretty rich, Snape!"

"Be silent," Snape growled, stepping forward from the shadows, his wand still trained on Ron. "Your foolish prattle has already revealed far too much to both of these students, Weasley. The consequences will be on your head."

"I already knew about Harry and Ron," Hermione spoke up, then covered her mouth as she realized she'd said too much.

"Potter _too_?" Malfoy was slack-jawed with astonishment. He looked at Snape accusingly. "But what the hell is really going on here? Weasley _can't_ be a vampire — he's too strong! Vampires don't have that kind of strength — we learned that years ago, in Defense class!"

"Shows how much _you_ know," Ron sneered. "The vampires you learned about back then weren't _really_ vampires — they're only half-vamps!"

"Ron!" Hermione said, warningly. "Don't —"

"_Enough_ of this," Snape muttered. A red bolt suddenly burst from his wand, streaking toward Ron.

But Ron simply stepped to one side, dodging the stunning spell, and it passed into the darkness behind him with a ricocheting whine. "Have to try harder than that, Snape!" he sneered. "Vampires move a _lot_ faster than wizards."

Snape's expression became dangerous. "Do not force me to harm you, Weasley. I am quite capable of handling much more experienced vampires than you."

"What about _two_ of us?" another familiar voice spoke. Snape instantly turned toward it, but his wand was suddenly plucked from his hand. A moment later Harry appeared between Ron and Snape, holding the professor's wand.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, relief in her voice. "I'm glad you're —" She suddenly shook her head warningly. "You shouldn't be here —"

Ron was staring at her, his expression darkening. "_Now_ you're happy to see Harry, huh? What about me? I just saved you from Malfoy!"

"I wasn't going to do anything to her!" Malfoy protested automatically. "I was just trying to scare her —"

"Shut up," both Harry and Snape spoke at the same time. Malfoy blanched and fell silent.

"I think we have a problem," Harry continued. His eyes went from Malfoy to Snape. "So what do we do now?"

"I will handle Draco," Snape replied, flatly.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Draco demanded. "I don't answer to _you_ —"

"Be silent, Draco," Snape cut him off. "You do not understand what's at stake here."

But Malfoy, now back on his feet once again, was looking back and forth between Harry and Snape with a dawning comprehension. "I'm starting to," he retorted. "If you knew Potter was still alive, then you and he are in this together, somehow…" His eyes widened in sudden realization. "You're plotting against the Dark Lord!" he exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the Defense professor. "Aunt Bella was right about you all along! She —"

Before Malfoy could say another word Snape snatched Hermione's wand from her hand and in one fluid motion Stunned him into unconsciousness. "Hey!" Ron said angrily, starting toward him, but Snape held up a hand then handed Hermione back her wand, stepping away from her and letting his arms fall passively to his sides.

"Draco figured it out, didn't he?" Harry said knowingly, but Snape made no reply. "We already know you've been in contact with von Necros," Harry continued. "You're working with him, aren't you?"

"Clever of you to figure that out, Potter," Snape said, though his tone was ripe with sarcasm. His dark eyes flicked toward Hermione. "How much does Granger know?"

"Why don't you ask _me_?" Hermione said, archly. "I'm quite capable of speaking for myself!" Snape glared at her for a moment, then made a curt gesture for her to continue.

Instead of answering Snape, however, Hermione turned toward Harry. "What have you and Ron been able to do about — about You-Know-Who, so far?"

"Not much," Harry told her, pointedly ignoring Snape as well. "I don't know what von Necros expects, with us hiding here to avoid having the Grand Coven find out he's defied their orders to dispose of us."

"What about Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Isn't he a part of this plan?"

Harry and Ron glanced at one another. "I don't know," Harry shook his head. "He seems to be taking his cues from von Necros — it's unusual since the professor is usually the one giving the orders, not taking them."

Harry said this deliberately, hoping to catch an errant thought from Snape on the headmaster's real role in all this, but the Defense professor's Occlumency shields were keeping him from getting anything — an unusual situation since his vampiric telepathy should be able to easily break through a wizard's mental barriers.

"All we can do," he went on, covering his disappointment at learning nothing from Snape, "is to continue to wait and see what happens with von Necros."

"In the meantime," Ron said, pointing to Malfoy's unconscious form. "What're we going to do about ferret-boy here?"

"You will do nothing," Snape declared preemptively. "I will deal with Draco, as I've said."

"How?" Harry asked. He wasn't convinced Snape would do enough to keep Malfoy quiet about him and Ron, and the things he'd learned tonight. Snape always favored students in his own house — Harry half-expected he would do something that would allow Draco to sabotage their plans in some way.

"He will be dealt with, that is all you need to know," Snape replied.

"Not good enough," Harry objected. "If Draco finds a way to tell Voldemort that we're still alive, we have no chance of getting close enough to him. But maybe that's what you want, Snape, isn't it?"

"You and I are on the same side in this, Potter," Snape declared. "We both want an end to the Dark Lord. If you do not believe me, ask Dumbledore."

"I know what Dumbledore believes about you," Harry said, in a grim voice. "_I'm_ not convinced, though."

"It is sufficient that the Headmaster is convinced," Snape replied, cuttingly . "What you believe is not important, only that you do as you are told."

"You —!" Ron growled, taking a step toward Snape. Suddenly Harry was in front of him, moving faster than the normal eye could follow.

"It's not important, Ron," Harry said. "We know what the truth is."

"Do you?" Snape appeared amused by Harry's statement. "I very much doubt that, Potter. Your arrogance is once again showing. You and Weasley would much prefer to blame Draco Malfoy while the two of you endanger your mission by roaming the corridors of Hogwarts, with no thought of being seen by other students. You believe Draco will compromise your mission, but give no thought to whom Granger might confide in."

"I haven't told _anyone_ about Harry and Ron," Hermione spoke again, this time with anger in her voice. "Not even Ron's own sister!"

"Commendable," Snape drawled, but his condescension was obvious. His black eyes returned to Harry. "If you nothing further to say, I suggest you and Weasley return to the Chamber of Secrets until you are contacted by von Necros." He held out a hand. "My wand."

Harry reluctantly tossed the wand back to the Defense professor, who then gestured toward Draco's unconscious body, which lifted slowly in the air. Without another word Snape turned and walked away, Malfoy's body floating after him, and they disappeared in the darkness of the twisting, turning corridors.

Hermione ran toward Ron to hug him, but let go after only a moment. Ron didn't feel the same as he had before — he was cold and hard now, nothing like the gentle warmth she'd felt from him when he was alive (and when she wasn't mad at him for his dalliance with Lavender Brown). "I'm glad you're not — not dead, Ron," she told him, a trifle uneasily.

"So am I," he joked, though there was an ironic tone in his voice. "At least, not altogether dead. Though I came pretty close to taking Malfoy out for what he tried to do to you!"

"How did you know?" Hermione asked, as Harry joined them. "You were in the Chamber of Secrets, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded. He looked at Harry. "Me an' Harry both got some kind of premonition about you — like you were calling to us, or something like that."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I _did_ think your names, when Malfoy threatened to take Harry's Invisibility Cloak! Maybe you heard me, somehow!"

Ron looked at Harry again. "What do you think?" he asked. "Is that possible?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I suppose. Neither von Necros or Sanguini have been overly helpful when it comes to what true vampires are capable of doing. In fact, we haven't heard much of anything from von Necros since we came to Hogwarts. We need to talk to Sanguini about that."

Turning to Hermione, Harry said, "I think you should go back to Gryffindor Tower and get some rest, especially after what happened tonight with Malfoy. If he gives any indication that he remembers anything about tonight, I want you to contact us."

"Alright," Hermione nodded, but then frowned. "How do I do that?"

"Er —" Harry didn't have a ready answer to that. "Uh, I dunno. Can you think of something?"

Hermione was thoughtful for a moment. "Well, we could use the fake Galleons we used to send messages when we were in Dumbledore's Army. Do you have your Galleons?"

Both Harry and Ron shook their heads. "I think mine's in my trunk, up in my dorm room," Harry said. Ron just shrugged.

"Bother," Hermione said, disappointed. "Well, I can just charm something else, I suppose — a rock that would flash red, or something like that. You can keep it down in the Chamber with you, and if it's small enough, you could carry it with you."

"Too bad you can't come down to the Chamber," Ron said, a bit wistfully. "We spent some time earlier tonight cleaning it up a bit."

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "No more basilisk corpses lying about."

"Ooh, I'd like to see _that_," Hermione said, interestedly. "That thing nearly killed me back in second year! Maybe you can take me down there to see it!"

"Sure!" Ron said brightly, but Harry seemed less enthusiastic.

"I dunno, Hermione," he said, shaking his head. "We only have access to the Chamber through Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and if she sees me or Ron she might start telling people we're still alive."

"Oh, nobody believes anything she says, Harry," Hermione disagreed.

"Right," Ron agreed quickly. "Everyone thinks she's cracked, anyway."

"I don't want to endanger our mission, Ron," Harry insisted. "If Voldemort gets even a _hint_ that we're still alive, he might take steps to protect himself from us."

Ron looked incredulous. "How's he even going to know what we are, Harry? He might just think we're ghosts, like Moaning Myrtle! What's he afraid we're going to do — haunt him to death?"

"It's just too risky for Hermione to come down to the Chamber through Myrtle's bathroom. If she followed Hermione down, she'd know where the Chamber was, and she might start telling people." Harry shook his head. "She'd find out we're down there, and even if people didn't believe her about us, they might start trying to get to the Chamber itself!"

Hermione looked away, disappointed. Harry was right, though; they couldn't let anyone know where the Chamber was. Her eyes fell on the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls the ballet. She looked across the corridor to the bare wall on the other side. She suddenly slapped her forehead. "Oh, I am such an idiot!"

Both Harry and Ron looked at her, startled. "What do you mean?" Ron asked her. "You're the smartest witch I know!"

"What did you think of?" Harry asked.

She gave them a wry look. "Just watch," she said, then put on a deeply pensive expression and began walking back and forth in front of the tapestry. On her third pass, a large, oaken door suddenly appeared on the wall.

"It worked!" Hermione clapped happily.

"The Room of Requirement!" Ron exclaimed. "Hermione, you're brilliant!" A puzzled look suddenly came over his features. "But — what did you do, exactly?"

"Well, the Room of Requirement gives a person what they need, right?" Hermione said, smiling broadly. "I needed a way to get to the Chamber of Secrets without going through Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. So —" she walked over to the door and opened it. "Let's go see what it's done."

Harry and Ron followed Hermione into the Room of Requirement. Inside, the Room looked not very different than the seventh floor corridors outside. There were no windows, but lighted braziers along the walls filled the room with light and warmth.

The biggest difference was the large, circular opening across from the entrance. It was surrounded by dozens of sculpted, intertwined snakes with gleaming, bejeweled eyes that sparkled in the torchlight as they approached it.

"Whoa," Ron said as they stood in the doorway to the Chamber. A stairway led downward, dimly lighted by small braziers burning on the cylindrical walls. The path curved off to one side until the stairs faded into darkness, the light from the burning braziers too dim to provide illumination far enough to see further. "What — what do we do now?" Ron asked, staring down into the darkness.

"We follow it," Hermione said, determinedly. She took her wand out and said, "_Lumos_," then, holding it above her, she began to descend the stairs. Harry and Ron gave each other a "why not?" look and followed her. The stairs kept turning to the left, continuing down and down for what seemed a very long way (they were, after all, walking from the seventh floor to somewhere below the bottom of the lake the castle overlooked).

"Too bad we didn't know about this in our second year, huh?" Ron muttered to Harry as they trudged down the stairs. "No sliding down that slimy drainpipe!"

"I'm surprised no one ever thought to use the Room to provide access to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry replied.

"Not many people had heard of it before people started getting petrified in our second year," Hermione said.

"Bill had," Ron remembered. "He mentioned it to me once."

"Your brother also got twelve Outstandings on his O.W.L.s," Hermione said, a little enviously. "Remember I had to practically force Professor Binns to talk about it in History of Magic class. I don't think many students even knew there was even a legend about the Chamber, and certainly not many knew about the Room of Requirement other than the house-elves! We never would have except for Dobby telling Harry about it."

Finally, they came to an opening, and the three of them stepped out into a dark stone tunnel. Next to the stairway they'd come out of was the end of a pipe about four feet in diameter, the pipe that Harry and Ron had come out of the very first time they entered the Chamber, back in their second year, with Gilderoy Lockhart.

Hermione's wand was still lit, but the dark stone of the tunnel seemed to swallow the light of her _Lumos_ spell. "Where do we go now?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper, as if the tunnel was swallowing her words as well as her wand light.

Harry pointed ahead of them, into the darkness beyond. "That way," he said. Hermione started in that direction, with Harry and Ron right behind her. They came to a bend in the tunnel and followed it. "Ouch!" Hermione said suddenly as her foot hit something, and she lowered her wand. The floor in front of them was strewn with rocks.

"Now what's all this?" Hermione asked, holding her wand high again. The wandlight fell on a huge mound of rubble that nearly filled the tunnel. At the top was a hole that wasn't nearly as large as Harry remembered it; it reminded him that he had grown some since his second year at Hogwarts.

"This is what happened when Lockhart tried to use my wand to Obliviate Harry and me," Ron reminded her. "Remember it was broken most of my second year — I couldn't get it to work right most of the time, and that Obliviate spell must've been the last straw. Fortunately," Ron added, feelingly.

"We have to climb through that?" Hermione said, reluctant to do so.

"We can make it bigger later," Ron offered. "Hell, we should be able to clear it away in no time, with our strength."

"Right," Hermione said, and began climbing up the pile of rubble to the opening. Harry let Ron crawl through next, thinking as Ron's legs clambered out of sight that they hadn't even considered clearing it away before now, not when their abilities let them scale the rock fall with minimal effort, and float down to the tunnel floor on the other side.

It was also obvious to Harry that Hermione was pointedly ignoring the fact that they were now vampires — she had not mentioned it once since Harry found her and the others near the Room of Requirement, while Snape had made several oblique references to it. Harry crawled through the opening, then down the other side instead of flying down as he normally would have. He hoped Ron had had the presence of mind to do the same.

Ron and Hermione were standing at the base of the rock fall. Her wand was held so she could see Harry climbing down. When he reached the bottom she turned without a word and began walking again. In a low voice, Harry said, "I think I should warn you, we're coming up on something that might surprise you."

"Unless there's another Basilisk down here, Harry," Hermione said, walking forward confidently, "I'm not too worried about what we — _oh_!"

She stepped back, startled, as a large, shriveled, skin was suddenly in front of her — a poisonous green skin at least twenty feet long. "Oh my goodness!" she said, staring at it in disbelief. "Is that how big it was?"

"It was bigger," Harry said, calmly. He'd already been through his ordeal with the Basilisk, and between Fawkes' help and the Sword of Gryffindor he'd come out on top, though the monster had very nearly killed him.

Hermione stared at the skin for several seconds, then shook herself as if shake off her fear and started forward again. They followed the tunnel around several bends, walking for what seemed like long minutes, until Hermione asked, "Are we there yet?"

"Nearly there," Harry answered, and at that moment they came upon a solid wall with two stone snakes carved upon it, their eyes set in emeralds that glittered as Hermione's wandlight fell upon them.

"Now what?" Hermione asked.

Harry stepped forward. "Now —" he said, and his next word was a hiss. With an audible crack, the two intertwined snakes parted in half and the walls moved smoothly apart until they were out of sight. Beyond them was a long, dimly-lit chamber, with stone columns entwined with more snakes that rose up and out of sight in the darkness above them.

Hermione was trying to look everywhere at once, taking in everything she could. "This is fantastic, Harry!" she exclaimed, walking further into the room. "Well, there's a bit of a stench," she added, covering her nose.

"Sorry about that," Harry said. For him and Ron the smell was worse, but tolerable.

"Yeah, too bad we couldn't do an air-freshening spell," Ron quipped.

"Well, _I_ can," Hermione said, and waved her wand several times in the air. The odor decreased significantly. She took a deep breath and smiled. "_Much_ better!"

Harry walked forward. "I wonder where Sanguini is," he said, looking around. "He didn't want us to leave the Chamber. Sanguini?" he called out, but there was no reply.

"Maybe he's out exploring the Chamber," Ron suggested.

Hermione looked at Ron. "Isn't Sanguini that vampire that was at Professor Slughorn's Christmas party?"

Ron was looking around as well. "I wouldn't know," he said, irritated. "I wasn't invited, remember?"

"Oh, Ron, are you ever going to stop whining about —"

"Shh!" Harry said. "Quiet!" He listened for the sound of heartbeats, but only Hermione's was present here in the Chamber. "He's gone."

Ron snorted. "And after all that guff about us not leaving the Chamber! Oh well, who cares? Hermione, want to see the dead Basilisk?"

But Hermione was looking thoughtful. "Harry," she said slowly. "I've been thinking about the 'plan' this von Necros is supposed to be working on with you and Ron. After you get close to Voldemort, what are you supposed to do?"

Harry regarded her with a measure of confusion. "We have to get rid of him, you know that."

"You mean kill him," Hermione said, plainly.

"Y-yes," Harry nodded. Ron, standing nearby, fidgeted uncomfortably.

"How do you think you're going to do that?" Hermione pressed. "Are you going to bite him? If you've lost your magic you can't duel him anymore."

"Um —" Harry hadn't quite worked things out that far.

"Has von Necros _told_ you how he thinks you should deal with Voldemort?" Hermione kept on. "If you drink Voldemort's blood, won't you become Dark?"

"I don't know!" Harry said, revolted at the idea. "Voldemort's not even human any more!"

"Harry…" Hermione shook her head sadly. "That's the way _he_ thinks, you know — about Muggleborns and humans. It's how he's convinced the Death Eaters that he's right and Professor Dumbledore is wrong, that blood purity is what makes wizards superior to everyone else."

"But he still has to be stopped, Hermione!" Ron spoke up. "If Harry or I have to kill him to stop him, that's the price we'll have to pay for everyone's safety!"

"I know, I know!" Hermione's expression was anguished. "I just don't want to have to lose either of you because you had to sacrifice yourselves, even to save the rest of us!"

"We have to do what we can," Harry said, determinedly. He turned to Ron. "I think we need to talk to von Necros about this."

"It's not long before dawn now," Hermione pointed out. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow night."

"I don't want to wait that long," Harry disagreed. "Ron and I can make it there by morning — I'm sure von Necros will let us stay there for the day. I want to nail down what his plans for us with Voldemort are, what he wants us to do, exactly."

"What about the Grand Coven?" Ron asked, nervously. "What if they show up while we're there?"

"We'll be there less than a day," Harry reminded him.

"What if they're already there?" Ron went on.

"We can hide out in the forest near von Necros' castle," Harry suggested, after a moment's thought.

"Great," Ron said, sarcastically. "I love roughing it."

Hermione was looking more and more worried. "Maybe you shouldn't go," she said to Harry. "You could have Sanguini carry a message to von Necros, couldn't you?"

"Maybe." Harry wasn't keen on that suggestion. "I don't know how much I can trust Sanguini, though — he's von Necros' servant, not mine, and he's already shown that he doesn't have to follow my orders."

The three of them stared at one another for several moments. "Well, whatever you want to do, Harry," Ron said at last. "It's your call."

"We'll go," Harry said firmly. "We need to know where we're going with this 'mission' against Voldemort. Hermione, Ron and I have got to leave now if we're going to make it to von Necros' castle before dawn. You can walk back up to the seventh floor using the stairs from the Room of Requirement."

So saying, Harry and Ron both disappeared, leaving Hermione alone in the Chamber of Secrets. She looked around for a moment, then sighed and began walking back to make her way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Once in the Room of Requirement, Hermione cautiously opened the door leading into the corridor beyond. It was empty, and she closed the door behind her, which promptly vanished. She walked over to the window at' the end of the corridor, staring out into the night sky, which already showed a bit of morning sun reflected on the clouds skirting the horizon.

Didn't Harry and Ron realize how dangerous what they were doing was? Risking sunlight and the presence of the Grand Coven was foolhardy. If only there was something she could do —

The solution hit her , a blinding flash of the obvious. Dumbledore! Of course she could tell Dumbledore what they were up to! Hermione sprinted through the hallways to the corridor where a lone stone gargoyle stood — the entrance to the Headmaster's office. "Pepper Imps," she said confidently—it was the password she and Ginny had worked out from the list of Dumbledore's favorite treats.

The gargoyle did not move.

"Oh, bother!" Hermione said. "Acid Pops! Fizzing Whizbees! Cockroach Clusters! Jelly Slugs! Every-Flavor Beans! Uh… Peppermint Humbugs!" But none of the candies from the list she and Ginny had compiled worked.

Hermione stood there for several minutes before shaking her head in resignation, then turned and made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. She would just have to talk to Dumbledore at breakfast, then, and hope he could find Harry and Ron before the evening came.

=ooo=

Harry and Ron flew side by side, flying as high as they could and still avoid the encroaching dawn in the east. Their reason for flying as high as possible was simple — there was less air resistance and therefore faster speeds were possible. They would have barely a few minutes after arriving at the castle before sunrise forced them underground, into the dungeons of von Necros' castle. Harry hoped the Grand Coven wouldn't be there — it would force them to seek shelter from the sun in the forest near the castle, and Harry had not enjoyed his one experience of "roughing it" in the ground rather than inside a cosy casket. Even that would be worth it, though, to find out what von Necros' plan regarding them and Voldemort was. Harry should have made _that_ his top priority after becoming a vampire, since that would determine virtually everything he would do after Voldemort was defeated.

"This is brilliant, Harry!" Ron shouted, referring for the third time since they began their journey to their ability to fly. Harry made no reply this time, but he had to agree that flying without a broom, just by willing yourself into the air, was even more exciting than flying on the Quidditch pitch or in the orchard behind the Burrow, where they sometimes practiced for Quidditch during the holidays.

"How much further now?" Ron shouted. His abilities had increased since he drank the unicorn blood Harry and Hermione had obtained for him, but he was still not quite as powerful as Harry — he was beginning to tire.

"Not long," Harry shouted back "It should be just over the horizon now…" Harry's shout trailed off uncertainly as he saw an unfamiliar glow in the south ahead of them."

"What is it?" Ron asked nervously. "What d'you see?"

"Not sure," Harry shouted. "That light—"

The flickering glow ahead of them was coming closer over the horizon's edge, resolving itself into a number of fires in the forest across the river running near von Necros' castle. And —

The castle itself was burning.

It wasn't exactly in flame—stone castles didn't burn, of course. But several wooden roofs were smoldering, and parts of the castle walls had collapsed, showing flames in the castle's interior.

"What the hell happened?" Ron shouted. Both he and Harry stared at the flames in dismay. If something had happened to von Necros — where would they go when the sun began to rise over the eastern horizon?

Harry grabbed Ron's arm to pull him close. "Land behind the castle, near the forest," he hissed in Ron's ear. "Make as little noise as possible. And no more shouting! We don't know who might be listening!" Ron nodded and Harry let him go. He didn't know what had happened, but a few unpleasant scenarios came to mind: The villagers in the nearby town might have attacked the castle, setting it afire; or von Necros might have done this himself as he abandoned the castle, wanting to make it uninhabitable for non-vampires.

Worst of all, the Grand Coven might have done this after discovering von Necros' deception. If that was the case, it might be too late for them to turn and run, but the forest might provide them at least a chance of escaping detection, if they could hide before they were surrounded or captured.

They landed noiselessly in a grassy area a dozen yards from the edge of the forest. Harry immediately crouched down in the high grass, and Ron copied his motion. "What do we —" Ron began to whisper, but Harry motioned for silence. He was listening for any noises around them and needed complete quiet. The sound of dying fires reached him from inside the castle, along with the heartbeats of the nearby villagers — along with intermittent shouting and screaming.

"Some trouble going on in the village," Harry breathed. "I hear people shouting and screaming." He couldn't make out enough words to know what was going on, though, even if he'd understood the language.

There was also one heartbeat that sounded closer than the villagers. Harry listened carefully, trying to focus just on that lone heart, trying to determine its location. It _could_ be coming from the castle. Harry wondered what kind of Muggle would be brave enough to enter von Necros' castle on his or her own. He considered momentarily that it could be a Grand Coven trap — they might be trying to lure him or Ron back into the castle, presuming that they had hidden in the forest before their arrival, but the heartbeat seemed too regular and slow to be some Muggle captured and forced to be bait for such a purpose.

"We're going into the castle," Harry whispered, his voice so low Ron had to listen carefully, even with his enhanced hearing. "I hear someone inside." They both stood and moved soundlessly to the stone gardening shed at the back of the castle, the shed with the secret entrance into the castle. That door was locked from this side, but with Harry's strength the lock snapped easily. The followed the staircase on the other side downward, then into the corridor that led deeper beneath the castle.

"I can hear it now," Ron whispered, referring to the heartbeat. Harry sensed the person was close, but still moving around as well. Probably examining the damage to the castle, he decided. That's what he'd be doing if finding the intruder wasn't their chief concern at the moment.

Tracking the heartbeat, Harry and Ron soon found themselves outside the Great Hall of the castle. One of the doors leading into the Hall had been shattered, and they positioned themselves to bolt into the room and surround whoever was in there. Harry mouthed the words _three_, _two_, _one_…_now_! and they both sprang into the room, toward the sound of the heartbeat.

But there was no one in the room. The heartbeat was still close by, but it had become much slower and softer. The Great Hall itself was in a shambles — tables and chairs were broken or overturned, tapestries had been torn from the walls. Even the Great Chair, the seat from which Baron von Necros presided over the castle, had been overturned and was lying on its side. Near it, however, was something that gave both Harry and Ron pause.

It was a burned body, a pile of ashes in the shape of a person.

"Urgh," Ron grimaced, revolted at the sight of the charred remains. Harry, disgusted as well, nevertheless stared closely at the ashes, wondering if it was von Necros or not, but it was impossible to tell. "It is — is it von Necros?" Ron finally asked.

"I can't tell," Harry replied. "I see what might have been a cloak in the pattern of the ashes, but it's impossible to tell."

"It is not von Necros," another, familiar voice suddenly stated, and both Harry and Ron looked around, startled. Was this the person whose heartbeat they'd heard?

"Show yourself," Harry demanded. "We won't hurt you."

"I know, Harry," the voice replied, a deep voice that was quite familiar to Harry, now that he really listened to it. "I was merely being cautious — I could not be sure it was you and Mr. Weasley until you entered the Hall."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry said, astonished that the headmaster was here at von Necros' castle. "Where _are_ you?"

"Here in front of you," the Great Chair replied, and it suddenly flowed, melding into the tall figure of Albus Dumbledore. "I apologize for the momentary deception; I had to be sure who was entering the room before making my presence known."

"What happened to the castle, sir?" Harry asked. "And what happened to von Necros?"

"As to the Baron's current whereabouts, I do not know," Dumbledore replied, calmly. He gestured toward the ashes on the floor. "I had been examining the remains of this poor soul when I sensed your presence in the other room."

"This _isn't_ von Necros, then?" Ron asked again. "Are you _sure_, Professor?"

"Quite sure," Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I was concerned it might be when I initially discovered it, but my examination determined that was not the case."

"Then who is it?" Harry wondered.

"I cannot be sure," Dumbledore answered, "But my examination of the remains revealed that the person had imbibed Polyjuice Potion shortly before its death. Therefore, its features, if we were to recognize them, would not be a trustworthy indication of the individual. However," he continued, "I am led by circumstances to suppose that this person's death may have staged, to make it appear, however clumsily, that the Baron was killed."

"You mean this person _killed_ himself?" Ron was incredulous. "But if true vamps burn to ash, couldn't von Necros have just dropped a pile of ashes on the floor to make it _look_ like he'd died?"

"Master vampires can sometimes recognize the remains of their own kind, Ronald," Dumbledore explained. "A Master possessing such an ability would have seen through such a ruse immediately."

"But you saw through this just as quickly, sir," Harry pointed out, looking down at the charred remains, wondering who this person had been.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed. "But this person was not a true vampire."

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, even though he might have guessed the answer.

"Potions do not work on true vampires," Dumbledore replied. "Their bodies react only to and are sustained by blood. Potions are designed to work only on the living."

Harry realized something else at that moment. "Sir, you said earlier that some master vampires can recognize the remains of their fellow vampires?" Dumbledore nodded. "Do you think there are Master vampires here now?"

"I believe this is the work of the Grand Coven, Harry," Dumbledore replied quietly, confirming his worst fears. "They somehow discovered von Necros' deception regarding you and Ronald. All this —" the headmaster gestured to the destruction about them "— was probably done in retaliation for that deception, as well as a threat to the two of you. I am in fact surprised that the Grand Coven was not here upon my arrival, waiting for you to return."

"Harry heard screaming in the village," Ron said, remembering. "What do you think that means, Professor?"

Dumbledore frowned. "If the members of the Grand Coven arrived here hungry, they might have gone to the village to feed. If that's the case —"

Suddenly Dumbledore's wand was in his hand. Harry hadn't even seen him reach for it, even with his vampiric senses. "You two must leave. Immediately," Dumbledore ordered. "Go to the forest, as far in as you can before sunrise, and hide yourselves underground. Leave no trace of your passage. Quickly, now!"

"But what are you going to do, Professor?" Harry asked. "Aren't you in danger from them as well, for helping us?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said, moving his wand in intricate patterns. "Perhaps not. The Grand Coven and I share a common goal, and they may not be aware of my aiding you. That is a risk I must take, as I need to talk with them."

"Why?" Harry asked, but Dumbledore shook his white-haired head.

"No time to explain, Harry! You and Ronald must leave now! Hide yourselves! I will explain the next time I see you! Now go!"


	13. The Dumbledore Factor

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Thirteen  
>"<strong>The Dumbledore Factor"<strong>

Updated March 30, 2012

**=ooo=**

"But — but — " Harry tried to object. "What if —"

Dumbledore rode over his objection. "When you awake this evening," he said, speaking quickly, "return _immediately_ to Hogwarts and wait for me there. Do _not_ return here — this place is unsafe for the two of you. Sunrise is approaching, you must leave now, before the Grand Coven arrives!" The old wizard's expression was the most desperate Harry had ever seen before today. "Harry, _please_, obey me!"

Harry stepped back, shaking his head as if he would refuse, but the expression on the headmaster's face would brook no further argument. He looked at Ron and nodded, and the two of the vanished, moving faster than a normal human eye could perceive. Only bare minutes remained before sunrise, and they would need every moment of them if they were to find someplace within the forest beyond the castle where they would be safe from the sun. And hopefully, Dumbledore thought, from the Grand Coven as well.

Dumbledore resumed his spells, whispering them in a language long forgotten to most wizards, casting wards and charms he hoped the vampires of the Grand Coven would be unable to detect. Those of the Coven who had traveled here, to Britain, would be the foremost among the vampires of that most secret society — the oldest and most powerful. If Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley fell into their grasp — but it would not do to harbor such thoughts, Dumbledore knew. He must needs think of them no longer, as if they were already dead. Even with the power von Necros had given them, both of them together would be no match for the least member of the Grand Coven. His wards in place, Dumbledore reached for a pocket within his robes —

"I see you are already here, old wizard," a low voice intoned, seemingly from empty air. "Welcome."

"Show yourselves," Dumbledore replied, his own voice low and flat, both arms at his side in a neutral stance. "I would speak with you face to face."

A tall figure appeared at the far end of the hall. Clad in black and dark red robes, the man gazed upon Dumbledore with piercing black eyes from beneath heavy brows in a pale, nearly white face, a look of studied superiority and arrogance. He moved forward slowly, seeming to float rather than stride, and came to a halt a dozen feet from the Hogwarts headmaster. "I sense your protections are in place, as usual." The man smiled thinly, the smile not reaching his eyes. "Still distrustful of us, Dumbledore?"

"I find a reasonable amount of caution to be prudent, Voivode Drakul," the old wizard answered, addressing the vampire with his original title and surname.

"As would I, were our situations reversed," the vampire agreed. His black eyes fell upon the ashes next to the wizard. "Who is that upon the floor there?"

Dumbledore did not follow the vampire's gaze. "I do not know," he answered. "I have not had enough time to study the remains."

"Perhaps it is one of your formers students, then?" another voice spoke. A second vampire had appeared opposite the remains. This vampire was robed in black, similar to the first, and tall, though not as tall as Drakul, who stood taller than even Dumbledore. His face was as pale as the first, but with sharper features; he fairly radiated cruelty and contempt. "Do you suppose von Necros finally saw the foolishness of his ways and disposed of them?"

"I do not know," Dumbledore said once again. "I was not given a choice in this matter. As you know, Vlad Drakula Tepes."

"The damned always have a choice," Drakula disagreed. "But _you_ have chosen to dance with the Devil, old man. You must therefore dance to the music we provide."

A hollow laugh echoed around the Great Hall, and a third vampire appeared standing next to the first. This one was more handsome than the first two, with brown, shoulder-length hair and a closely-trimmed beard and mustache. He spoke with a French accent. "Our honored professor does not seem a likely dancer, does he?" he said, still smiling.

"No, he does not, Baron," Drakula answered. "But dance he must, if he wishes to ally himself to us."

"Dawn approaches," Dumbledore pointed out. "If you would rather continue this conversation in the evening —"

"I think we will continue it now," the leader cut over him. "There are matters we must discuss, and there is no reason for you to tarry here afterwards. You see that we remain awake, even as the sun arises outside."

"You are Daywalkers, then." It was less a question than a statement of observed fact.

"To be sure," Drakul nodded. "When we have finished, you will leave, and we will take our rest."

"Who is being distrustful now?" Dumbledore asked, quietly.

"It is for _your_ benefit , monsieur wizard, not ours," the third vampire, who had been called "Baron" by Drakula, responded haughtily. "We are in no danger from _you_."

"I'm sure the professor knows that, Gilles," Drakula smiled grimly. "He is well aware of what we are capable of."

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "Let us not dawdle, then, nor mince words. What are your plans now concerning the defeat of Voldemort?"

"What makes you think they have changed?" the leader, Drakul, replied. "He is no less a threat to us now than he was when we struck our bargain."

"Your plans changed regarding Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley!" Dumbledore said loudly, emotion at last filling his words. "You ordered them destroyed after von Necros made them vampires!"

"We reconsidered," Drakula said, waving a dismissive hand. "It was not as clever a plan as we first imagined."

"It cost two young boys their lives!" Dumbledore said, his anger now obvious. "You should have considered _that_ before you ordered Harry Potter turned into a vampire!"

"Potter was no less a pawn of yours than he was of ours," Drakul said. "Yes," he added at Dumbledore's frown. "We know of your plans for the boy, old wizard. It is all there, in your mind — your fear regarding his scar and what may lie within it, your pact with Snape, who would have told Potter what he must do when the time came, in your absence. Your plans weave an intricate web, old sorcerer, one much more cunning and devious than anything we might devise.

"We are simple warriors, much more straightforward an obvious than you wizards," Drakul went on, as Dumbledore remained still and listened, their eyes locked on one another. "Our solution for this Voldemort upstart should have been obvious — attack and destroy him. But _you_ thought that ill-advised, as if any Dark Lord over the past 500 years might have been able to achieve dominion over the world, much less this British orphan, _your_ pupil, I might add!"

Dumbledore had regained his calmn. "You have not answered my question, Voivode Drakul," he stated, his voice almost its normal, pleasant tone. "What of our plans regarding Voldemort — what have you done to place one of your own in his midst?"

"It was Baron von Necros' plan to do so," Drakul sneered. "_Our_ plans were never so circumspect! _You_ conspired with him, Dumbledore — you should be full aware of that!"

"The Baron and I agreed that an infiltration of Voldemort's followers had a greater chance of success than simply attacking him," Dumbledore answered. "Even assuming you would have been able to locate him. He no doubt has his hiding place under a Fidelius Charm, with himself as the Secret Keeper — Voldemort would trust none other than himself."

"And no doubt one of his 'trusted' Death Eaters is none other than Severus Snape," Gilles quickly added. "Which means that you must know as well, Dumbledore."

But the old wizard was shaking his head. "Only the Secret Keeper can communicate the location of a place warded by the Fidelius," he reminded them. "Though Severus has tried various methods to inform me of its location, even Legilimency cannot wrest the secret from him — he is quite skilled at Occlumency, as _you_ know."

"Fortunately, we are not deterred by such wizarding parlor tricks," Drakula said, contemptuously. "We have the Dark Lord's location."

"Through Snape?" Dumbledore appeared surprised. "You have had contact with him?"

"Of a sort," Drakula smiled. "He divulged the location freely to von Necros, and the Baron related it to us."

"That cannot be," Dumbledore said, flatly. "The Fidelius cannot be broken!"

The three vampires laughed, the sound of their mirth echoing around the Hall. "You wizards always underestimate our power," Gilles said. "Even von Necros, younger than any of us, was able to bend your Defense professor to his will. Snape has not been your man for some time now."

Dumbledore was silent for some time. Then, "What have you done with Harry and Ron?"

"I think we should ask _you_ that, wizard," Drakul said, taking a step toward the professor. The other two vampires did so as well, encircling the wizard. "After all, _you_ were here when we arrived."

"I had just arrived," Dumbledore said, evenly. "I was about to examine these ashes when the three of you appeared."

The leader's black eyes flickered toward Drakula, who then fixed Dumbledore with a piercing , hypnotic stare. Dumbledore found himself unable to move. "You will excuse me if I do not believe you, wizard," Drakula said. His will reached out, grasping and binding the professor's mind, bending it inexorably to his own. Dumbledore's own Occlumency barriers fought against the intrusion, but even his supremely capable mind was no match against the Master vampire's willpower. He groaned weakly as Drakul sifted through his thoughts, his memories, and found —

Dumbledore staggered back a step as the vampire's mind released him. "What did you find?" Drakul demanded.

"Interesting," Drakula looked toward Drakul. "He does not know whether the two boys were here. He arrived here only moments before we did. I detected no Obliviation gaps. The old magician appears to be telling the truth."

Two pairs of black eyes gazed penetratingly at the Hogwarts headmaster as he slowly straightened. "Who would have thought?" Gilles said, in wonderment. "Dumbledore actually being truthful with us? I suspect a trick!"

"No," Drakula disagreed, arrogantly. "I examined him most closely."

"Then we must assume the two fledglings are alive," Gilles said, smiling evilly. "Good. I ask to be the one to dispatch them."

"Old habits die hard, de Rais?" Drakul said, giving the brown-haired vampire a disapproving glare. "Do with them as you will, when we find them — but make sure they die the _final_ death. I want no more trouble from those two — or from the traitor, von Necros!"

"He will be found as well, Father," Drakula said. "Already his treachery has been made known to the other covens, both here and across Europe. He will find no safe haven, wherever he has gone."

"And what of the wizard?" de Rais asked, looking at Dumbledore, who had made no sound or movement since the younger Drakul had invaded his mind. "Do we let him live? He is no longer essential to our plans."

"Silence," the elder Drakul said, harshly. "I will make that decision, not you, child-killer." De Rais frowned at the old insult.

"I am afraid," Dumbledore's voice came quietly into the silence that followed, "I must make that decision myself, Voivode Drakul."

"_You will not_," the younger Drakul hissed, fixing the professor with another piercing, hypnotic stare. Unlike the previous time, however, Dumbledore did not freeze in place — rather, his wand was suddenly in his hand, and with a quick motion toward the vampire, Drakula found himself pushed backwards against a wall.

Gilles hissed and leaped toward the wizard, a long, graceful arc that somehow continued upward, over Dumbledore's head, and the vampire slammed into a wall as well, just below the ceiling. There he stuck, inexplicably, snarling in anger as he struggled vainly to free himself.

"Impressive," the elder Drakul admitted. He had made no move toward Dumbledore. "You _did_ have time to set up protections, I see. I wonder how you managed to hide that fact from my son."

"It appears I do have protective spells in place," Dumbledore agreed. "But how must remain with me alone."

"You have nowhere to go," Drakul pointed out. "Your protections are only within this room. I can sense that. You cannot pass from here without forfeiting them. And when you do, we shall have you!"

"And if I simply Disapparate?" Dumbledore asked, a ghost of a smile momentarily flickering across his aged features.

"You would have already, if you could," Drakul sneered, baring his teeth. "We have wizards working with us as well, Dumbledore. No doubt you can feel the Anti-Apparition Jinx in place within this Hall. It extends throughout the entire castle. You are trapped."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore murmured. "Or perhaps not — _Deligitor phenix_!"

A burst of red fire lighted the room in stark shadows, even as an eerily beautiful sound echoed in the vampires' preternaturally powerful ears, confusing them. And then Drakul saw — a red-plumed bird the size of a swan circled over the old wizard's head, and he hissed in anger — and in fear. Phoenixes were powerful creatures of the Light — the natural enemies of Dark creatures like them, vampires who had taken the lives of innocents.

"We shall meet again," Dumbledore said, his left hand (the one not blackened and withered) reaching into the air. "But not as allies, I fear." His hand grasped the phoenix's tail, and both wizard and bird vanished in a burst of flame.

"Of _that_ you may be sure, wizard," Drakul muttered darkly as the room returned to its usual dimness. "Come," he snapped to the other two vampires, and the three of them swept from the room, heading into its depths to rest and revitalize themselves for the coming struggle. "Dumbledore, and indeed all wizard-kind, will soon see just what their so-called Dark Lord has unleashed upon them!"

**=ooo=**

How deep into the forest that lay beyond von Necros' castle Harry and Ron ran, they weren't sure. The thick growth of trees might provide protection from the light, if they could only stay awake more than a minute or two before the sun's rays began to shine above the horizon.

But Harry's thoughts were not on the encroaching dawn, but on the Hogwarts headmaster, whom he had left to fend with an unknown number of vampires, each of whom could be even more powerful than von Necros. Professor Dumbledore wanted to protect Harry, but could he protect himself from such beings? Harry had to hope so, because shortly he and Ron would be unable to help themselves, if they fell asleep before finding protection from the daytime sun.

Finally they stopped, more from an oncoming feeling of lethargy than any idea that _here_ was a good place to hide. Harry and Ron both looked around, unclear what to do next. Or rather, Harry knew what they should do, but he did not particularly want to dig in the earth like some burrowing creature. "Now what?" Ron said, and Harry sensed he hoped Harry had a better idea than that as well.

But there was nothing else for it. "Now, we dig," Harry said. Ron made a face. "I know," Harry snapped, annoyed even though Ron's thoughts mirrored his own, "but we don't have a choice, Ron—we have to be covered before we fall asleep!"

"Yeah," Ron grudgingly agreed. They both bent down and began scooping dirt from a trench just wide enough to hold both of them. With their strength and speed, even waning as the dawn rapidly approached, they finished the hole in a little over a minute.

"This is disgusting," Ron said, looking down at the trench they'd dug.

"You could always go ask the Grand Coven for a nice cozy coffin," Harry snapped sarcastically. "I'm sure they'd let you have one—forever!'

"Don't remind me." Ron jumped down into the hole. The edge a little above his knees—fairly deep since Ron had long, gangly legs—and Harry joined him a moment later. They began scooping the mounds of dirt next to the hole on top of them, trying to level it out so it would not be quite so obvious that the ground had been dug up and filled in again.

"See you at sunset," Ron muttered, keeping his mouth nearly closed to keep dirt out of it.

"Right," Harry said, hoping he _was_ right about that, even as he sensed Ron had fallen asleep. A short time later his own thoughts became fuzzy, and he fell asleep, too.

**=ooo=**

"I have no idea, Headmaster, how I was able to tell von Necros about the location of the Dark Lord's headquarters," Snape replied, stiffly. "Nor do I know why I cannot give you the same information."

Dumbledore's initial anger had dissipated into curiosity. "Most perplexing," he murmured. "Voldemort _must_ be using a Fidelius Charm to guard his headquarters, just as I use one to keep the location of the Order of the Phoenix a secret."

"No doubt," Snape agreed. The Defense professor was standing before the great oaken desk in the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore had called him here after the last meal of the day, as dusk fell outside the walls of Hogwarts, to demand an explanation for this so-far unexplainable anomaly.

As it developed, though, there was another unexplainable anomaly at work, one which concerned Snape much more than the first. "I have performed extensive tests on myself," Snape continued. "Yet I find no reason, magical or otherwise, why I cannot recall any meeting with von Necros at his castle, I can remember leaving Hogwarts, for reasons unrelated to attending a meeting with the vampire, and remember returning, as well as believing I spent my time so occupied, whether it was to procure certain potion ingredients or research Defense spells in Diagon Alley, but no one can corroborate my memories of those times."

"It is a curious situation," Dumbledore agreed, pondering whether Snape might have cause to lie to him. Unless his allegiance had changed, which Dumbledore thoroughly doubted, the Defense professor was best served by being truthful with him; and Dumbledore, at least as far as he was able, was truthful with Snape. "I have had no reason to believe that a vampire could break through the magical binding of a Fidelius Charm, but —"

"I see no reason to think so _now_," Snape interrupted. "It is a form of binding magical contract, as difficult to overcome as an Unbreakable Vow — which is to say, it is impossible to do so without suffering the effects of that failure. In the case of the Fidelius, the person trying to do so would be rendered incapable of communication in any form if they were to continue to try and break through the spell." Snape's voice became intense. "I am well aware of this as you know, Headmaster."

"I am, Severus," Dumbledore agreed. "You tried everything we could think of to counter the spell — fruitlessly, I regret to say.

"However, if von Necros did somehow compel you to divulge Voldemort's location to him, though you do not remember, we might be able to —"

"No," Snape tone was adamant. "I will not."

Dumbledore and Snape stared at one another, each gauging the other's resolve in winning this argument. "Knowing Voldemort's location will give us an enormous advantage, Severus. And you are an unlikely suspect — the Fidelius Charm is considered impenetrable by any means of scyring or detection."

"That is understood," Snape replied, coldly. "Yet I will not allow —"

There was a soft rustle at the window, and two figures were suddenly standing there — along with a scent of earthen muskiness; both figures were covered in dirt.

"Sorry to interrupt, sir," Harry Potter said, looking from Dumbledore to Snape. He hadn't expected to find the Defense professor here. Beside him, Ron was radiating hostility. "We came here as soon as we awoke. Er, did you —"

"I will get to my conversation with the Grand Coven shortly, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted. "At the moment we have a more pressing issue."

"Headmaster —" Snape spoke warningly. "I have said I will not allow —"

"I understand your reluctance, Severus, but this is something we _must_ know."

There was silence for a in the Headmasters office.

Harry and Ron looked at one another, confused. It seemed like they had walked into the middle of a conversation — which indeed they had. Snape's expression was pinched, closed — whatever it was they were arguing about, he was _not_ happy about it, Harry could tell even without touching the man's mind.

"Um, maybe we should go," Harry suggested, jerking a thumb at the window. "You can finish talking about whatever it is that —"

"Quiet, Potter," Snape snapped. He turned slowly to Dumbledore. "Very well," he said, his voice low and controlled. "But Weasley must leave."

"_What_?" Ron was outraged. "_Why_?"

"I'll just tell him afterwards," Harry pointed out. He was beginning to enjoy this — he had Snape right where he wanted —

"You will swear a vow never to breathe a word of this to anyone," Snape demanded. "For as long as you —" his mouth quirked a fraction "— live."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Not funny," he said, curtly. His eyes turned to Dumbledore. "This must be something important, Professor. I assume you want me to use my vampiric ability to hypnotize Snape."

"It's _Professor_ Snape, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him, even as Ron grinned broadly and the Defense professor's expression became even more frosty. "But yes, that is essentially correct. Severus, will you agree that Mr. Weasley can be bound by the same agreement you would impose on Harry?"

Snape was standing stock-still, obviously reluctant to agree. Finally— "Since the Headmaster has essentially said what is required of Potter, I see no other reasonable alternative."

"Well, we're always about being reasonable," Ron put in, enjoying Snape's discomfort.

"What am I looking for, specifically?" Harry asked. "It has to be something that the professor has either forgotten he knows, or something he cannot talk about, for some reason."

"Very clever, Potter," Snape sneered. "But I doubt you will be able to pierce the protection of the Fidelius Charm — for that is the spell that guards the secret—the location of the Dark Lord's headquarters."

"Ahh," Harry said, understanding. But— "So how do I get him to tell us where it is?" he asked Dumbledore.

"I cannot tell you how, Harry," Dumbledore shook his white-haired head. "But vampires like you can exert enormous influence on the human mind, even ones shielded by Occlumency such as Professor Snape's is. You must find a way to convince him to speak."

"To find out where Voldemort is hiding," Harry muttered grimly. "I can do that." He turned to face Snape again, who stood regarding him with a flat, somewhat mocking expression, as if daring him to try his worst. Well, he would.

_But how do I make him reveal the location_? Harry wondered. Well, first try something straightforward. His gaze fixed and locked with the Defense professors, vivid green eyes staring into black, seemingly impenetrable ones.

"_Reveal the location of Voldemort's headquarters_," Harry said, exerting his will at Snape. Snape's eyes flickered and he swayed slightly. His mouth opened and he appeared ready to speak. And he said —

"I cannot reveal any information protected by the Fidelius to anyone," he said, in a monotone. His lips twitched, almost a sneer. "Is that the best you can do, Potter?" He asked, his voice still toneless. "Pathetic."

Harry bridled. "_We already know the location_," he suggested. "_You will reveal nothing by saying it_."

"The charm precludes me from communicating it to anyone in any form," Snape answered, "even those who already know it as well."

This was going to be harder than he thought. "What do I try next?" he asked aloud, hoping Dumbledore or Ron could come up with something.

"I dunno, Harry." Ron was scratching the back of his head, trying to think. "Professor, can a person think the secret that they know? It seems like we could when we knew the Order of the Phoenix was located at number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Harry looked at him sharply. "How were you able to say that aloud?" he asked. "Snape just told us that no one could communicate the secret to anyone, even if we already know it." They both looked at Dumbledore.

"The Fidelius cannot bind someone who is already dead," Dumbledore answered, almost reluctantly.

Ron got a nasty grin on his face. "There you go, Harry!" he laughed. "All we have to do is turn Snape into a vampire like us, and he can tell us!"

"I hope you're kidding, Ron," Harry said disapprovingly, though at some level he too ached to make short work of Snape now that he was in their power.

"Just a thought," Ron muttered sourly, irked by his (mostly) joke being taken so seriously. "Too bad we can't just leave Snape alone so he could say it to himself."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "that would be great, if we could somehow hear —" He stopped, looking at Ron in admiration. "Ron, that's _brilliant_!"

Ron looked surprised for a moment, but then smiled proudly. "Well, of _course_ it is! Uh — what did I say?"

"Just watch," Harry said, and looked at Snape once again. "_There is no one in the room with you now. You are quite alone. Your thoughts turn to the secret location of Voldemort's headquarters. You want to say it aloud_."

Snape opened his mouth, but then shut it again, shaking his head. "Someone may be listening — the Weasleys and their Extendable Ears, or a Scyring Charm. I cannot take the chance…"

"_You have cast spells to keep anyone from hearing you_," Harry pressed. "_The room has been charmed so no one can see into it, nor will any magical spying spell or device work through it_. _It will please you greatly to say the secret aloud, in no one's hearing or viewing. Say it_."

"I — I —" Snape was visibly trembling now, caught between the power of the Fidelius and Harry's vampiric commands. "I — c-cannot…"

"_Say it_!"

"It — it —" Snape was gasping and clutching his chest. "It — it — is…"  
>"Hurry, Harry!" Dumbledore urged. "His body cannot take the strain for much longer!"<p>

"_SAY IT_!" Harry yelled, pushing his will at Snape with everything he had.

Snape collapsed on the floor, and Dumbledore rushed to his side. "Severus!" he said, then looked up at Harry in desperation. "Stop it, Harry! It's killing him!"


	14. An Unholy Alliance

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

**Chapter Fourteen**  
>"<strong>An Unholy Alliance"<strong>

Updated July 28, 2012

Harry immediately stopped the mesmerizing influence on Snape. The Defense professor shuddered and lay still; Harry and Ron watched anxiously as Dumbledore checked his pulse and breathing. "I will have to bring him down to Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore muttered. "She will determine if there has been any damage from the —"

"That will not be necessary, Headmaster." Snape's voice was weak but as cutting as ever as he sat up. "I require no ministrations from Madam Pomfrey — only a moment to recover."

"Severus," Dumbledore said, warningly. "You came very near death. It would be prudent to let Poppy have a look at you."

"Unnecessary," Snape said, shortly. He got to his feet, ignoring the Headmaster's offered help, then smoothed his robes. He gave Harry a condescending look. "A rather lackluster effort, Potter," he said, in a flat tone that nevertheless carried an obvious sneer. "It leaves me…_unsurprised_ once again."

"Glad I'm living up to your expectations, _Professor_," Harry replied, bitingly. "But we still need to find a way to get that memory."

"Maybe I should have a go," Ron suggested. "He might not resist as much if it's not Harry."

"That will not be necessary, Weasley," Snape retorted. "An alternative has already been determined." He turned to Dumbledore. "You met the Grand Coven earlier this evening at von Necros' castle, Headmaster?"

"Yes, as I said earlier," Dumbledore acknowledged. "They suspected Harry and Ronald were there, but they managed to hide in the forest just beyond the castle grounds before they arrived. If von Necros had been there they might have forced him to summon them to the castle at nightfall, to destroy them."

"I'm glad he wasn't there, then!" Ron muttered to Harry.

But Harry had thought of something else. "Professor Dumbledore, do you think the Grand Coven will come here looking for us?"

"It is possible," Dumbledore said. "But they will not be able to enter the grounds. The protections I have placed on this castle make it impossible for any Dark creature to cross over without suffering pain and injury to the point of death. Even beings as powerful as the Drakuls would not be able to withstand it."

"So we're safe here?" Ron asked.

"On Hogwarts ground, yes," Dumbledore replied. "However, the protections do not extend very far into the Forbidden Forest, and if any of the Grand Coven are lurking there you would not be safe. I recommend we all retire and meet tomorrow evening, when I will attempt to —"

Snape suddenly bolted toward the open window of the Headmaster's office. For several moments Harry and Ron watched, not understanding — what was Snape doing? Then Professor Dumbledore shouted, "Severus! No!" and Harry suddenly realized something was wrong. He spun around, moving toward Snape, but was slowed as Ron had stepped directly into his path. Harry grabbed Ron's shoulders and spun him out of the way, reaching to grab Snape before he did what he seemed to be planning, but as the Defense professor reached the windowsill he leaped upward and —

even as Harry reached for his leg, to pull him back —

_ — changed_, his body transforming into the shape of a giant bat, nearly as large as Snape himself, flapping away into the night sky as Harry watched from the window. A moment later Ron was at the window as well, shouting "No way!" as he watched Bat-Snape climb higher and higher into the darkness.

Both of them spun around to Dumbledore. "Why did he do that?" Harry demanded. "Why did he run?"

"I do not know." Dumbledore looked stricken. "He was aware of our need for the information about Voldemort…"

"And he didn't want us to have it!" Ron finished, viciously. "Harry's been right all along, hasn't he — Snape has been working for You-Know-Who!"

"_Professor_ Snape, Ronald — and no, he is not working for Voldemort."

"What were you and he talking about before we entered?" Harry asked, to avoid the perennial Snape loyalty debate.

"How to extract the location of Voldemort's headquarters," the Headmaster replied. "I was about to suggest using your abilities to procure the information just as Baron von Necros seems to have done."

"You were telling us earlier that the Baron was still alive," Ron remarked. "Did those vampires that came to his castle think so, too?"

"They do," Dumbledore said. "Unfortunately, for it means that poor soul died needlessly trying to mislead them on that score."

"They were the leaders of the Grand Coven?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "They are the three most powerful vampires alive today: Vlad Drakul, titled _Voivode_ or Warlord during his life, today he styles himself a count; his son, Vlad Drakula Tepes, also called Vlad the Impaler; and Gilles de Rais, a baron, would-be wizard and child murderer in life. They have all been alive since the fifteenth century, and so each one is a powerful opponent; together, they make a formidable alliance."

"Do we get to fight these guys, then?" Ron wanted to know, unconsciously flexing and unflexing his hands. He felt like he was itching for a fight, which was a new sensation for him; Ron rarely wanted to fight unless he was very angry or upset, but he'd been feeling this way a lot more lately.

"Ronald, that would be extremely unwise," Dumbledore warned. "Any one of them could easily kill you in a number of ways. They will all have strength and speed superior to yours, and much more experience as well."

"But we've got to do _something_!" Ron snapped. "If Snape abandoned us, he might have gone over to their side. What do we do then? Won't he go running to You-Know-Who and tell him everything?"

"I think that quite unlikely," Dumbledore replied. "Snape has my complete trust and support."

"But —!" Ron pointed at the window. "He just bloody ran away! What're we supposed to think about —"

"Ronald," Dumbledore broke in, raising a hand for silence. "My reasons for believing in Professor Snape are quite strong, but they must remain between Severus and myself. Now, may I suggest that you and Harry retire to the solitude of the Chamber and wait for tomorrow evening."

"What happens tomorrow?" Harry asked.

"I will attempt to contact Baron von Necros," Dumbledore told him. "Assuming he is still alive then. I do not know what may have happened this night with the three Grand Coven leaders now occupying von Necros' castle.

Harry just put something together that the Headmaster had told him earlier. "If Snape told von Necros where Voldemort's hideout is, he can tell us! You said that the dead cannot be bound by the Fidelius Charm!"

"Correct, Harry," Dumbledore affirmed. "Once we know the location, we can plan a strategy to infiltrate and learn details so that we may mount an assault before Voldemort mounts one of his own." The Headmaster pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now, if you will, I have some things to do before I retire for the evening." He turned to his desk, dismissing them.

But neither Harry nor Ron moved. "Dumbledore," Harry said. "Before we leave, Ron and I want to know what you plan to do when we finally have Voldemort's location."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I believe I have just said that, Harry," he replied.

"That's not what I meant," Harry said, staring into Dumbledore's eyes. "I want to know what _Ron_ and _I_ are going to do once you know the location."

Dumbledore was silent for several moments. "We will determine your role when we have more information about Voldemort's location and the strength of his Death Eaters there."

Both Harry and Ron shook their heads. "Not good enough," Harry said.

"We're getting bored with this 'hide in the Chamber like good little vampires' bollocks," Ron put in, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"Language, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, mildly, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Your attitude is a bit off-putting," the Headmaster added.

"If I were still your pupil I might take that into consideration," Ron sneered. "But I'm not, and now thanks to you it looks like I'll never see anyone in my family again unless they find out I'm a vamper and come looking for me with a stake and hammer."

Dumbledore frowned. "What are you trying to tell me, Ronald?"

"We're trying to tell you we need to bring this to an end," Harry said. "We need to find the rest of Voldemort's Horcruxes, destroy them, and kill him forever. I'm willing to bet I can force him to give me their locations. Then we can get rid of them."

"You cannot destroy a Horcrux, even with your vampiric strength," Dumbledore pointed out. "Only Basilisk venom or Fiendfyre can accomplish that."

"We have the Basilisk's corpse down in the Chamber," Harry said. "We can get fangs from it and use them on the Horcruxes as we find them."

"We are not even sure how many Horcruxes there are," Dumbledore persisted.

"But probably seven," Ron said. "Because You-Know-Who said that seven was the most powerful magical number."

"Most likely six Horcruxes," Harry corrected. "Voldemort himself would be the seventh part of his soul. And if I force him to tell me, we will _know_ how many there are."

Dumbledore was standing taller now, regarding the two young vampires gravely. "I understand your newfound abilities make you quite confident in yourselves — that is admirable, by the way, for you will need the utmost confidence to confront Voldemort when we finally find him. But we have no idea what level of protection will be on his hideout or how many of his followers will be there. To simply rush headlong into a place like that would be tantamount to suicide."

"Maybe," Harry said. He too was standing taller, as was Ron next to him. "But unless Snape has gone running back to Voldemort, to tell him about us, he has no idea of the powers true vampires possess. If Ron and I can get in there and get him out, I can compel him to obey me until his Horcruxes are gone. Then —" Harry stopped, looking grim.

"You understand, Harry, that killing Voldemort will doom you to your existence as a vampire forever?" Dumbledore was almost pleading with him. "You cannot take a life without being cursed, whether you break his neck or drain his blood. I — I did not wish for such a fate for you."

"As I recall, I didn't either," Harry said, unhappily. "Neither did Ron. But it's what we ended up with." He shook his head then looked at Ron. "Come on, let's go get something to eat." He and Ron moved to the window, and Ron stepped up lightly onto the windowsill.

"You should avoid the Forest," Dumbledore said. "If you are in dire need of blood —" he stepped over to a black cabinet and took out a flask of red liquid. "I can offer you some of mine."

Ron looked at the vial, fascinated by the sight of Dumbledore's blood. He took a step forward but Harry put a hand out, stopping him. "No," Harry said firmly. "No human blood, Ron. It will just make us crave it all the more."

Ron eyed the flask longingly, but nodded. "You're right," he agreed. "It really does smell good, though."

"We'll be careful in the forest, Professor," Harry said. He and Ron disappeared through the window. Dumbledore put away the flask, then wearily made his way to his bed. He would need to be fully rested if he was going to locate von Necros the following evening.

=ooo=

Harry and Ron didn't return to Dumbledore's office until very late that night — it was only a few hours shy of dawn when they stepped through the windowsill onto the floor of the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore was seated at his desk, leaning back and napping.

"I don't see von Necros," Ron said, his voice so low only Harry could hear it. "I guess Dumbledore didn't get in touch with him."

"It seems not," Harry said, disappointed. "And we didn't find anything around the grounds." At Ron's suggestion (actually he insisted on it), they had made a full circuit around the edge of the school grounds checking for any sign of the Grand Coven members. A little louder, he said, "I wonder if Snape came back while we were out?"

Professor Dumbledore looked up at him. "_Professor_ Snape, Harry," he said, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. He knew Harry had spoken to see if he was listening. "No, he has not yet returned from wherever he went after leaving us last night."

"Probably straight to those Coven bigshots," Ron muttered.

"Ronald, that is doubtful," Dumbledore said, patiently. "Professor Snape would not willingly go over to their side."

"But aren't they interested in getting rid of Voldemort, too?" Harry asked. "I thought the problem was in how they wanted to do it."

"The long-term goals of the Grand Coven are no different from those of Voldemort," Dumbledore told them. "They wish to gain dominion over our world. They see Voldemort as an upstart, a competitor to their goals. They cannot allow him to gain any kind of foothold of power, whether here in Wizarding Britain or anywhere else, if they are to extend their web of control into both Wizaring and Muggle governments in their quest to control the people of Earth."

"So in their way," Harry said, seeing where that logic was going, "they are at least as dangerous, if not more so, than Voldemort!"

"I am afraid so," Dumbledore agreed, heavily. "I had hoped to forge an alliance with the Grand Coven by siding with them in the war against Voldemort, an alliance that we could use to our advantage when they made their own move to infiltrate the Ministry with half-vampires using potions to disguise their true natures."

"Potions like I was using," Harry said. He didn't like the implications of that. "So I was a guinea pig."

"Not by _my_ design, Harry!" Dumbledore said earnestly. "Von Necros thought to force my hand against the Coven by turning you into a vampire, but I only knew about it after the damage had been done. I never intended that you become one of them."

Ron snorted. "Well, it's too late for apologies now — we are what we are, whether you wanted it or not."

"Believe me, Ronald, I did not want this for you."

"Yeah, sure," Ron said, bitterly. "I guess I get that. But it doesn't make things any easier —"

There came a sudden sound from behind them — the doorknob to Dumbledore's office had begun to turn. Harry, Ron and Dumbledore all watched as the door slowly swung open.

=ooo=

Hermione made her way wearily back to the Gryffindor common room, tired from the late-night patrol she'd just completed. Sixth-year prefects usually got the worst patrol times, as a rule — the fifth years had a one a.m. curfew imposed on them, so they would get enough rest while studying for their O.W.L.s, and seventh years tended to reserve their times so they had plenty of time for their N.E.W.T. studies. Thus, the early morning 1 to 4 a.m. patrols usually fell to the prefects who had no upcoming examinations.

"Smoked kipper," she said to the Fat Lady, who yawned sleepily and swung out of the way to let Hermione enter. The first thing she noticed upon entering was the sound of snoring coming from a plush chair facing the portrait-hole. She also noticed the identity of the person snoring — in this case her wayward partner, Dean Thomas, who should have been helping her during the patrol she'd just completed. Her expression hardened a little; she was not pleased with Dean's performance as a prefect. Like Ron, he tended to use the position for personal aggrandizement, rather than to help and protect younger students.

She walked over to the chair Dean was sleeping in and shook him by the shoulder. "Wake up, Dean," she said flatly, wanting to give him a lecture about the responsibility he'd shouldered as a prefect, as well as enjoying the perks.

"Huh? Whuzzat?" Dean jerked, then looked around blearily. Seeing Hermione, he grimaced and cringed. "Oi! Sorry, Hermione, sorry! I was sitting here waiting for our time to start, then…" He shrugged helplessly. "I…must've fallen asleep."

"You must have," Hermione said, archly. "Don't worry — I finished our patrol on my own, Dean."

"Sorry," Dean said again. "Er — you're not going to…report me to McGonagall, are you?"

"No," Hermione softened a little. "I won't tell her, but please don't let it happen again."

Dean looked visibly relieved. Hoping to keep something going with Hermione, he added, "It could have been worse — I might have been out of the castle altogether when I should have been on prefect duty, like Malfoy."

Hermione almost flinched when Dean said Malfoy's name, but she covered by asking, "Wait a second — are you saying Malfoy left the school."

Dean nodded, pleased he'd caught Hermione's interest. "Yeah, I heard Pansy Parkinson bitching about it earlier tonight, she has to do all the patrolling without Draco to help her."

"Hmm," Hermione pondered the implications of that for a moment. "I wonder where he went." Probably straight to his father, to tell him about Harry and Ron, no doubt!

"Dunno," said Dean, with a shrug, not realizing Hermione's question was rhetorical. "He's going to catch hell when he gets back — his birthday's not til June and no one who's underage can leave the school without permission."

"Right," Hermione said, not really listening. She stood abruptly. She had to get this information to Harry or Ron immediately. "Well, I —"

"Where are you going?" Dean looked at her curiously.

"I —" She couldn't say she was going to talk to Harry and Ron, obviously! "I'm — I'm going to bed now. Thank you for the apology, Dean."

Dean grinned. "Thank _you_, Hermione, for being so understanding." He smiled at her. "How about a spot of something before you go to bed? I could have the house-elves bring up a couple of mugs of hot chocolate?"  
>Hermione was silent a moment. "No, thank you, Dean, I prefer not to exploit the house-elves any more than they already are." Inwardly Dean flinched — he'd forgotten about Hermione and her feelings toward house-elves.<p>

"And now, goodnight," Hermione said, stiffly, then turned and walked to the girl's staircase. Before she started up, however, she turned back to Dean. "Are you going to bed now?"

"I may sit here a little bit," Dean said, not looking at her. He figured he'd just blown it with her with his house-elf remark. "I'm not really sleepy."

"Oh. Alright, then," Hermione nodded perfunctorily and walked up the steps, thinking, _Damn, damn, damn_! _I need to get out and tell Ron and Harry what's happened with Malfoy_! _But how do I get past Dean_?

Then she shook her head, disgusted by her slow thinking. Of course she had the Invisibility Cloak! Entering her dorm room, Hermione looked at the other beds, making sure Lavender, Parvati and the others were asleep. Satisfied, she quietly opened her trunk and removed the Cloak, covering herself with it. On a whim she picked up the Marauder's Map as well. It could come in handy, she thought. Relocking her trunk, she made her way back down to the common room.

Dean was still there, sitting in one of the squishy chairs near the fire. He seemed to be brooding; he had a glum expression on his face and was shaking his head slowly and sighing longingly. Hermione couldn't help but observe him for several seconds. Why was he acting that way? It could have something to do with Ginny; the last time she'd seen them they were having cross words with one another. Well, if that was it, it was between Dean and Ginny, Hermione decided, and turned toward the portrait hole.

And realized the flaw in her plan. How was she going to get through the hole without Dean noticing something was going on. The portrait didn't just open by itself — someone had to be coming in or going out. But at this hour no one should be up except the prefects who were out on patrol now, and they wouldn't be back to the common room until it was almost dawn.

Well, it was no use, Hermione decided. She drew her wand, pointed it at Dean, and silently cast _Somnium_, a Sleeping Charm. Dean slumped forward a bit and began to snore softly. "Sorry, Dean," she whispered, and exited the portrait hole, heading toward the corridor where the Room of Requirement was located.

In that corridor, she walked back and forth in front of the bare wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, concentrating on her need to get to the Chamber of Secrets to talk to Harry and Ron. With only a few hours until dawn, the information about Malfoy leaving the school was getting more and more stale — once the elder Malfoy knew about Harry and Ron he would waste no time bringing it to Minister Scrimgeour's attention and there would be Aurors swarming all over the school, searching for them. They would be safe in the Chamber, Hermione thought, because no one had managed to find it except Harry and Ron in the past fifty-odd years. But they would be stuck down there unless they could escape from the school without being caught.

And all this fell squarely on Snape, Hermione also decided, because he apparently hadn't Obliviated Malfoy, or impressed him with the need for secrecy. She was beginning to see why Harry so loathed the man!

She paused in her pacing, looking at the blank wall. She had walked past the spot where the door should appear at least four times now — the door should be there! What was going on here? Could someone else already be in the Room?

Hermione knew, after the "Edgecombe Incident" of last year, that you couldn't get into the Room if it was already occupied unless you knew exactly what it was being used for, and Marietta Edgecombe had known about the DA meetings because she'd been part of them. Hermione had never found out why Marietta had snitched on them, but it could have had something to do with Umbridge putting pressure on her to talk; she had used up Professor Snape's supply of Veritaserum questioning students, after all.

And none of this was getting her any closer to getting down to the Chamber of Secrets, Hermione scolded herself. How could she get in the Room of Requirement without knowing its purpose? Ah! Maybe if she knew who was in there she could figure out what they were doing! She took out the Marauder's Map, tapped it with her wand and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." An image of the castle floors rapidly spread across the face of the Map, and Hermione quickly located herself on the seventh floor in the corridor she was in. But there was no indication that there was anything on the other side of the wall she was on! Where was the Room of Requirement. Hermione glanced over to where the Gryffindor common room was located; there was Dean Thomas in a chair in front of the fireplace, still asleep. "Dammit," Hermione swore under her breath, tapping the Map again and saying "Mischief managed," even though it hadn't been.

Hermione looked up, startled, as a door suddenly appeared on the wall right in front of her. She stepped back quickly, backing into the tapestry, which threw a small cloud of dust into the air. The door opened and Draco Malfoy stepped out, holding his lit wand out to look around before closing the door behind him.

Hermione watched from beneath the Cloak as Draco looked up and down the corridor once again, making sure no one else was around. He looked tired and in a bad mood, she decided — whatever he'd been doing in the Room of Requirement, he obviously wasn't having any luck at it. Draco lowered his wand, bringing its light down to a dull red glow so he was just able to see where he was going, and started off down the corridor toward the nearest staircase.

After Malfoy was gone, Hermione immediately resumed her pacing. She still needed to get to Harry and Ron, to tell them Malfoy might be planning to tell his father about them. Maybe she should have stopped Malfoy herself, come to think of it. But after what he'd tried to do to her, Hermione really wanted nothing to do with him. No, she would just find Harry and Ron and tell them what she knew. On her third pass a door appeared in the blank wall, and she quickly stepped inside.

But the room looked different from the last time she was in here. Instead of the large, circular doorway surrounded by dozens of sculpted, intertwined snakes, she faced a single stone gargoyle, one that looked much like the one that stood outside the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office.

Hermione approached the gargoyle slowly. It was indeed _very_ similar to the one outside Dumbledore's office. The last time she'd tried this she couldn't figure out what the password was. But this was the Room of Requirement, so…if she really needed to get past it….

"Excuse me," she said to the gargoyle, in a querulous tone, "do you happen to know the password to get past you?"

The gargoyle smiled and reached out slowly toward her. Hermione stood stock-still, wondering what it was going to do. The gargoyle reached past her ear, then pulled its clawed hand back. In it was a small card which it offered to Hermione. She looked at the card. On it was written the phrase

LEMON DROP

"Oh," she muttered. "I don't think I said that one last time. Right, then…Lemon drop!" and the gargoyle leapt to the side as the walls slid aside, revealing a spiral staircase.

Hermione rode the upward-moving staircase to the top, where the great polished oaken door to Dumbledore's office once again stood before her. She reached up and turned the doorknob. It clicked and the door slowly swung open, revealing Harry, Ron and Dumbledore, staring at her.

=ooo=

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, as she stepped into the room.

"Hermione!" both Ron and Harry exclaimed as they saw her. Ron jumped down from the windowsill he was standing on.

"I — I was looking for Harry and Ron," Hermione said, first addressing Professor Dumbledore. It _was_ his office, after all. "I thought I had some news for them, but it may not matter now."

"What news?" Ron asked, before either Harry or Dumbledore could speak.

"It was about Draco," she said, saying his name reluctantly. "There was a rumor he left the castle."

"That could not happen," Dumbledore told her, his voice gentle despite the tiredness she heard in it. "I am alerted whenever an underage student leaves the grounds."

"I thought as much, sir," Hermione agreed. "And it was just a rumor, I discovered. But I also found out that that he was in the Room of Requirement."

"I knew it!" Harry muttered to himself.

"How did you determine this, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

"I was trying to get into the Room," Hermione explained. "I wanted to go down to the Chamber of Secrets and talk with Harry and Ron about the rumor — I thought Draco might have left the school to tell his father that they weren't dead — but while I was there Draco came out of the room. I don't know what he was doing in there, but he looked frustrated as he was leaving."

"Good," Harry said. He turned to Dumbledore. "Whatever Malfoy's doing in there, Professor, it's obviously something pretty bad. What if he's using the room to try and find some way to leave the school and tell his father about us?

"I rather doubt that," Dumbledore disagreed. "Draco has been under much stress this past year. I do not doubt that he is using the Room to try and fashion a way for Death Eaters to enter the castle and terrorize the students."

"What?" Harry, Ron and Hermione all exclaimed. "And you've been _letting him do that_?" Harry shouted, outraged. "_Why_?"

"Well, frank curiosity for one, I must admit," Dumbledore smiled. "I cannot imagine Draco devising a way past the castle wards and protections, not to mention the fact that no one can Apparate, Portkey, fly or Floo in or out without my permission."

"Snape flew out of here just a few hours ago," Harry pointed out, angrily. "Was that a bit of a flaw in your plan?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Dumbledore admitted. "Flight under one's own power is allowed — otherwise the owls could not fly in or out with letters or other items. Professor Snape took advantage of that with his apparently unregistered Animagus form, that of a giant bat."

"Wait a minute!" Hermione was shocked to hear this. "Professor Snape left the castle?"

"Yeah," Ron said, darkly. "We figure he's off spilling everything to You-Know-Who right now."

"That is not true, Ronald," Dumbledore corrected him. "I, for one, believe he had another purpose in leaving."

"Which was —?" Harry asked, dryly.

"I do not know," Dumbledore told him once again. "But I am sure it will make sense once we see him again."

"_If_ we see him again," Harry remarked, skeptically. "Which I doubt — I think he's gone over to the Grand Coven's side."

"He has not."

That dry voice, coming from the window, made everyone turn toward it. Severus Snape stood framed in the windowsill, looking even more sallow than usual. He stepped down from the sill and stood stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Severus —" Dumbledore's voice was filled with an emotion Harry rarely heard there — dread. "What has happened to you?"

"I have made it possible for me to tell you where the Dark Lord is located," Snape said, his voice hollow.

Ron and Harry glanced at one another, then at Snape. They had known almost instantly what Snape had done, but the fact that he'd done it, somehow, was nearly beyond belief. Hermione, who only knew what she could deduce from observation, had seen the preternatural paleness on the Defense professor's face and the way his black eyes now shown with unnatural brightness.

"Professor Snape," she said, aghast. "You've become a vampire!"

"Yes, Miss Granger, a quite eloquent statement of the obvious," Snape retorted sarcastically. He turned to Harry and Ron. "Now that I am like you, the Fidelius no longer binds me."

"So tell us where he's at, then!" Harry said, impatiently.

"I will be doing more than that," Snape replied. "I will be leading you and Weasley on the assault on the Dark Lord."

=ooo=

**A/N: Reviews anyone?**


	15. Severus Snape, Voldemort Hunter

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

**Chapter Fifteen  
><strong>"**Severus Snape, Voldemort Hunter"**

Updated August 11, 2012

=ooo=

Everyone in Dumbledore's office stared at Snape. The man certainly looked very different than when he had fled this room a day ago. His hair seemed less greasy, and though he was paler than he had been, his feature were more regular and, well… more youthful than before. Harry could sense the changes in him — there was no heartbeat coming from him. He was a vampire, and a powerful one; from the aura Harry sensed, Snape was the equivalent of a Master vampire, perhaps more powerful than him or Ron.

But that made no sense! You didn't go from human to a Master vampire in a single day! Even the boosts Harry and Ron had been given from von Necros and the unicorn blood had taken them months to get there where they were now. And the idea that Snape was going to lead them into battle with Voldemort was ludicrous! The man was practically Voldemort's lapdog!

"_Lead_ us?" Harry was incredulous. "You were just made, Snape! You don't have the experience it takes to be a Master vampire!"

"Sloppy thinking, Potter," Snape drawled. "Your and Weasley's current abilities, gained over a short period, should be evidence enough that time is not necessarily a factor in acquiring vampiric abilities or experience."

"You drank unicorn blood?" Ron asked. Snape ignored him.

"Do you think this was a wise decision, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. It was clear from his tone he didn't believe so. "Whoever made you a vampire now has control over you."

"Unhappy that _you_ no longer control me, Headmaster?" Snape retorted, coldly. He and Dumbledore locked gazes for several seconds.

"We did have an agreement, Severus," Dumbledore finally said.

"Circumstances have rendered it moot," Snape replied.

"What agreement?" Harry asked. He knew what had happened to Dumbledore's hand, but Dumbledore had never mentioned anything about him and Snape.

"It is not your concern, Potter," the former Defense professor snapped.

"Maybe _I_ should be the judge of that," Harry said, defiantly.

"Or perhaps I should," the headmaster murmured. "After all, it primarily concerns _me_. But for now," he continued, deflecting the conversation back to the issue at hand, "we must concentrate on finding Voldemort and dealing with him."

Harry nodded. "I agree, sir." He looked at Snape. "Where is he?"

Snape turned to Dumbledore as if he, not Harry, had asked the question. "The Dark Lord is well-hidden, Headmaster, but I believe his defenses can be breached with some planning. I will reveal the location later, to you alone, so that we may plan that strategy."

Harry's eyes had narrowed at Snape's circumspect response. He had a suspicion about that. "Does Draco know?" he blurted out, to test Snape's reaction. He got one, but not from whom he expected, as Hermione gave him a sudden sharp look at the mention of Malfoy.

Snape had noticed her reaction as well. "What was that about, Granger?" he asked.

Hermione stared at him a moment, then shook her head. "Nothing, really. I saw Draco Malfoy just before I came here. He was —" she decided not to reveal where she'd seen him coming from "— he was walking along a seventh floor corridor. I hid so he wouldn't see me. There was a rumor that he left the school to return to his parents' home."

"Draco knows he's not supposed to leave school grounds," Snape said.

"But what if he has big news to tell," Hermione pointed out. "He might want to tell his father about Harry and Ron."

"He remembers nothing of them," Snape insisted. "I have made sure of that. Besides that, it should be obvious that Draco could simply send his father an owl if he wanted to inform him of anything going on here at the school."

"Our owl posts are being intercepted by the Ministry," Hermione countered. "Or perhaps certain students are exempt from that?"

"Preposterous," Snape sniffed. "No student is exempt from the safety restrictions the Ministry has imposed."

"In addition, I would have known if he had left, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, mildly. "There are wards to alert me when a student leaves the grounds without permission."

"But that only applies until June, when Draco turns 17," Hermione said. "After that he can come and go as he pleases, right?"

"That is well over a month away," Snape interjected. "By then, the Dark Lord will be vanquished."

"So what d'you think we're going to do, then?" Ron asked. "Are we going to just go kill You-Know-Who and all his Death Eaters? It can't be as simple as that!"

"In fact, it is," Snape replied. "But we must do so before the Grand Coven discovers his location. They will have other plans for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."

"What plans?" Harry asked. Didn't the Grand Coven want Voldemort gone as much as they did?

"Their plan is to make the Dark Lord and his followers into a group of vampires that will terrorize Wizarding Britain for years to come," Snape answered. "That is why they rejected von Necros' plan to use Harry to infiltrate the Death Eaters — they want to use them for their own plans to take over Britain."

Hermione gasped again, and Harry felt a cold fury build within him. "We can't let them do that!" he said, his voice low and grim. "We need Voldemort dead, not _undead_!"

"I agree, Potter," Snape replied, his voice as cold as Harry's. "That is why I became a vampire, like you. The Dark Lord would be wary of anyone else _except_ me — you and Weasley could never approach close enough to kill him without arousing suspicion, and neither of you could stand against so many wands once his Death Eaters began attacking you, not to mention the Dark Lord himself. I am the best choice to get close enough to kill him."

"Assuming you can," Ron said, skeptically. "You've just become a vampire — how could you have gained enough ability in _one day_ to be stronger than me or Harry? You'd have to drink something like a _gallon_ of unicorn blood, along with the blood of a very powerful vampire. Unless von Necros or somebody like him got _really_ powerful in the past few days, and made you, that seems unlikely."

"Weasley, your short-sightedness is matched only by your overall ignorance," Snape sneered. "Have you forgotten what I was before I became the Defense professor?"

"A potion?" Hermione exclaimed, guessing what Snape was alluding to. "But that's impossible!"

The former Potions Master regarded her coldly. "Hardly, Granger."

"I've been researching ways to turn Harry and Ron back to normal," Hermione, undaunted by Snape's condescension. "There is no potion to make someone into a vampire, or to reverse it!"

"None that you know of, you mean," Snape sneered.

"What are you saying, Severus?" Dumbledore put in. "Have you been able to create such a potion?"

"Indeed." Snape seemed quite proud of himself. "I have been working on the potion since I learned that von Necros was planning to recruit Potter into his vampire ranks. I knew that he would never be able to accomplish what von Necros desired of him."

"So you decided to sacrifice _yourself_?" Ron asked, incredulously. "Too bad you didn't tell anyone — it might have saved me and Harry becoming bloodsuckers!"

"Given your abysmal conduct over the past few months, it is surprising you've lasted this long," Snape drawled contemptuously. "Or that we don't have a whole coven of newly made vampires running around Hogwarts."

"Enough." The Headmaster's voice spoke with iron finality, and both Snape and Ron fell silent. "Severus, I wish to speak with you about your plans concerning Voldemort.

"Miss Granger, would you please return to your dormitory? Harry and Ron, I ask you to return to the Chamber for now, to await further word."

"But shouldn't we hear what Snape plans —?" Harry began.

"I wish to hear them first," Dumbledore cut over him. "For now, please return to the Chamber until I call for you."

"We will, soon enough," Harry said, turning away from the headmaster to move toward the window, with Ron following him.

"Wait," Dumbledore called. "Harry, I can facilitate your and Mr. Weasley's return to the Chamber." He pointed his wand at a knick-knack on his desk and said, "_Portus_." It glowed blue for a moment. "You need only touch this to be transported down there immediately."

But Harry shook his head. "Ron and I are going to the Forest, to feed while we have the opportunity."  
>"It is not long before dawn," Dumbledore observed. "You should not tarry overlong in the Forest."<p>

"We'll be back soon," Harry said. He glanced in Hermione's direction, his eyes locking with hers for a split-second, and suddenly she _knew_ she should go to the Room of Requirement, open the passageway to the Chamber of Secrets and wait for Harry and Ron to meet her there. Hermione nodded toward the Headmaster, seemingly a parting gesture. She watched Harry and Ron drop from the window, then turned and left the office.

Once out of the headmaster's office, she hurried down corridors until she found herself looking at the bare wall opposite Barnabas the Barmy. Walking back and forth, concentrating on her need, the large oaken door appeared once again and she pulled the door open, wondering how long it would be before Harry and Ron showed up.

"Let's get inside," Harry suddenly said, and she jumped, startled. Both of them were standing right next to her!

"You scared me!" she exclaimed, looking at them wide-eyed. "I thought you were going to the Forest first."

"Sorry," Harry said. "That was for Dumbledore's benefit. I needed to talk to you and there's not much time before we have to be back underground."

They stepped into the Room of Requirement. The door was barely closed before Harry turned to Hermione. "You said in Dumbledore's office you saw Malfoy on the seventh floor. Was he coming from the Room of Requirement?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "He almost caught me standing outside it! I ducked under the Invisibility Cloak so he wouldn't see me."

Harry shook his head in frustration. "I wish I knew what he was doing in there! It has to have something to do with those attempts on Dumbledore's life!"

"Do you think Snape was lying about getting rid of Draco's memories?" Ron asked.

"More importantly," Hermione pointed out. "Do you think he really turned himself into a vampire?"

"He did," Harry nodded. "I could sense it. And he's lot more powerful than he should be for a day-old vamp. I'd like to know what that potion was!"

"Unless he did manage to create one, there is no such potion in any of the potioneering books in the Library," Hermione stated with finality. "I've gone through every one of them, even the ones in the Restricted Section."

"I think I need to have a talk with Draco," Harry said. "He might know what's going on with Snape, assuming he didn't remove Draco's memories of Ron and me."

"And what if he did?" Hermione asked. "You'll be exposing yourself to him _again_."

"It could be worth it," Harry decided. "I can't shake the feeling that Draco is up to something. He's been acting suspiciously since before school began this year."

"It's not like you can follow him around during the day, waiting for a chance to talk to him," Ron pointed out. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'll think of something," Harry muttered. "I can feel dawn coming on," he said, then. "Ron, you and I need to get down to the Chamber and get some rest. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a pretty busy night."

And so saying, Harry and Ron both nodded to Hermione then began the long trip down to Room of Requirement's staircase leading to the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione watched until she could no longer hear their footsteps, then turned and left through the oaken door, watching as it disappeared behind her. She walked back to the Gryffindor common room, wondering what Harry and Ron were going to do if they had to follow Snape against Voldemort.

=ooo=

After Harry, Ron and Hermione left his office Dumbledore turned to the former Defense professor. "Severus, your actions have disrupted several carefully-laid plans. Was it really necessary for you to take such drastic measures without consulting me?"

"Headmaster, it is not as if I have been kept entirely informed of your plans," Snape retorted. "I became aware only after the Christmas holidays of your plans for Potter —"

"They were von Necros' plans," Dumbledore interrupted. "I would not have willingly allowed Harry to be forced into vampirism. Nor would have I advised you to make yourself into one."

"I suspected as much," Snape agreed. "That is why I made the decision on my own. The Dark Lord will not suspect me as he would Potter or Weasley — I will be able to approach him in his headquarters with the deference he expects, then strike when he is vulnerable. Potter and Weasley are not even necessary to this plan."

"I understand your thinking, Severus," Dumbledore mused. "But there is also an aspect to the Prophecy that you may not have considered."

Snape allowed himself a cold smile. "You mean the idea that only Potter can kill the Dark Lord, and vice versa? I do not think that idea has any merit, Headmaster. The wording of the Prophecy is vague enough that such a condition seems unlikely. It was only a twist of fate that Potter was chosen by the Dark Lord as his equal and not Neville Longbottom, who could have been the child born as the seventh month dies."

Dumbledore seemed lost in thought as Snape finished speaking. He finally looked at the ex-Defense professor again, his expression torn. "Severus, there are — details — which I have kept from you to this point. Details which will make the course you've chosen even more difficult."

Snape's expression became, if possible, even more cold. "Do you think me ignorant of the details of the Dark Lord's return? There are very few rituals that could have returned the Dark Lord from state of near death he existed in after his 'defeat' at the infant Potter's hand.

"I have been observant, Headmaster, these past six years. Quirrell was the first clue. His idiot affectation of wearing a turban was transparent enough, but you also manipulated Nicholas Flamel into leaving the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts, under his very nose. The next year, with the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, virtually confirmed the return of the Heir of Slytherin, which Potter could not have been. I had his genealogy researched — he is a descendant of the Peverells, not of Slytherin. I do not know the precise details of the Dark Lord's return, but I believe he, not Potter, reopened the Chamber.

"During the summer holidays I did some additional research," Snape continued. "The Library at Hogwarts is devoid of materials relating to the methods of resurrecting someone believed dead, but there are other libraries in the world that take a broader view — the library at Durmstrang, for example. It was there I found several references to 'Horcrux' — its purpose, method of creation, and some theoretical as well as practical applications."

"I commend you on your thoroughness, Severus," Dumbledore commented. "In fact, I expected no less of you, given the zeal with which you usually approach the Dark Arts and how to defend against them." He looked at Snape mildly, waiting for him to continue.

"After all," Snape said, and his voice fell to a near-whisper. "You yourself told me the Dark Lord would return, only hours after he disappeared. I was — I was too distraught then to — to think properly what you meant. Lily was dead, I had failed her. _You_ had failed her. And what you asked of me then —"

"I have never revealed to anyone the best of you, Severus." Dumbledore's words were reproving. "As was your wish. But I am a bit surprised at your willingness to give up your life in order to destroy your former master."

"I have my reasons," Snape replied, stiffly, his normal demeanor restored. He was once again the cold, aloof, Slytherin. "This is for her."

"Ah," Dumbledore smiled at that. "I am not sure she would appreciate the idea of vengeance for her sake, but I know she would approve of your choice to serve the Light, though perhaps not if you must use Darkness to do so."

"It _is_ ironic," Snape admitted. He took a deep (and unnecessary) breath. "Now, as to Potter and Weasley —"

Dumbledore's expression turned serious. "I wonder if we should involve them further in this, if you believe that you can approach Voldemort closely enough to take him by surprise."

Snape snorted derisively. "I doubt Potter would choose to bow out willingly, and Weasley follows him like a puppy. We must find a way to divert them from the Dark Lord's true location."

"Which is…?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Malfoy Manor," Snape replied. "It seems obvious once revealed, but with the Fidelius Charm in place no one who didn't know the secret could see it even if they were standing directly in front of the gates."

"If Harry and Ronald are no longer bound by the Fidelius —"

"They still are," Snape countered. "Until I tell them. Becoming a vampire released me from the restriction of being unable to communicate the location to others, but they cannot enter Malfoy Manor until I tell them it is where the Dark Lord resides. I suppose my 'Making,' if you will, made me a Secret-Keeper of sorts as well."

Dumbledore glanced out the window. "It is almost dawn, Severus — have you made arrangements for your daytime rest?"

"I have."

"I will have one of the other professors assume your duties as Defense professor," Dumbledore said. "I myself will fill in if necessary —"

"There is no need," Snape shook his head. "I shall be able to teach my Defense classes as usual."

"How can that be?" the headmaster frowned. "Your classes occur over the course of the day, in a classroom with windows that admit sunlight. Surely that would be fatal to you, Severus."

"I will deal with the windows of the Defense classroom," Snape argued. "And I am capable of moving about in the daytime, enough so that I can conduct my classes normally. No one is to know about my current situation, Dumbledore."

"As you wish, Severus," Dumbledore agreed. "I will bid you good day, then. Please return to my office at nightfall, we will discuss the particulars of what is to be done about Harry and Mr. Weasley."

Snape made a small nod, then turned and exited through the door of Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore sat back in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He had been up almost the entire evening; he would have only a few hours of sleep before resuming his daytime duties as Headmaster. But now, with the location of Voldemort known, he could begin preparations for the end of Tom Riddle and his followers.

=ooo=

The next evening, Draco Malfoy moved stealthily along the sixth-floor corridor leading to a staircase to the seventh floor and the Room of Lost Things. He had been thinking all day what he could do to make the Vanishing Cabinet work — the deadline for its completion was rapidly drawing near, and the Dark Lord had made it clear that it really was a _deadline_ — his father and mother's lives were forfeit if he couldn't get the connection between the Cabinets working before the end of this term, when they would all be sent home for the summer.

His own life was also forfeit if he failed in his other objective, that of killing the Headmaster. This was the task that he most dreaded, even though it should be simple to do — simply find the Headmaster alone in a corridor or room, unsuspecting, and use the Killing Curse on him. His Aunt Belllatrix had demonstrated it for him several times, and he himself had successfully cast it on conjured animals.

But conjured animals weren't the Headmaster, and Draco wasn't sure he could go through with it. But he _had_ to go through with it — he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't back down from anyone or anything! Ironically, Draco thought, the one person he believed he _could_ use the Curse on, Harry Potter, was already dead.

Potter! Just thinking that name made Draco's blood boil, thinking how the slimy half-blood had put his father in prison. Father would be free soon — the Dark Lord had promised to free him and other Death Eaters from Azkaban after the summer holidays began, but he wanted his father free _and_ safe from harm, and that was up to Draco to ensure, by killing Dumbledore.

At the top of the seventh-floor stairs, Draco made sure he heard no one else moving around — the corridor between the stairs and the Room of Requirement was completely silent. Draco crept along, hugging the wall, wary of surprises like Mrs. Norris or snooping prefects like Granger or Weasley's replacement, Dean Thomas. Draco smirked; if he met either of those meddlers he'd hex them into next week!

At last he turned into the corridor where the Room of Lost Things was located, and he moved with more confidence, certain he would make progress tonight, despite the strange encounter he'd had with Snape during Double Defense earlier that day. The Slytherin Head of House had been acting strangely during class today — he'd appeared distracted and irritated by the normal heckling the Slytherins gave the Gryffindorks. He had even assigned lines to Goyle for casting a jinx at Dean Thomas for taking points from him at dinner earlier that evening.

Draco put that out of his mind, however, as he began to pace back and forth in front of the bare wall opposite Barnabas the Barmy, thinking of his need to get into the Room of Lost Things. Back and forth three times he paced, concentrating, until he was rewarded with the sight of a polished wooden door appearing in the wall. He was in again!

Draco quickly pulled the door open and slipped inside, moving so quickly he felt the breeze of the door against his skin as he yanked it shut. The Room of Lost Things was an enormous, cathedral-sized room with tall windows and a high ceiling, but only moonlight shone through the windows now, barely illuminating the room. That had not deterred Draco, however; he'd found stands for braziers when he'd first started working here, and he now pulled out his wand and lit the two braziers nearest the door. Firelight illuminated his immediate surroundings, and Draco made his way down a corridor formed of old school desks, piles of books, and other discarded odds and ends, to the junction where the Vanishing Cabinet stood, facing an area cleared of any junk and debris, giving Draco a clear view of the object he'd been working on since shortly after the year started.

Montague, the captain of the Quidditch team, had run afoul of the Weasley brothers in Draco's fifth year, and they stuffed him into the Vanishing Cabinet, situated on the first floor at that time. Montague managed to escape a few days later, but he'd told Draco about seeming to move back and forth between the Hogwarts cabinet and another one, located elsewhere. Draco eventually discovered that the cabinet he remembered seeing in Borgin and Burkes several years earlier was its counterpart, and he'd bullied Borgin, the owner, into telling him how he might fix it.

It had been slow going, however, because Draco could no longer get instructions from Borgin. He'd read up on Vanishing Cabinets in the school Library, a boring and unpleasant task given the stupid librarian's harassment of him, but came away with a few ideas for repairing the cabinet.

Draco stared up at the Vanishing Cabinet, trying to decide what he should try next. He yawned; it was getting harder and harder to be up all day and then come here and work on this thing at night. But he _had_ to keep working on it — his parents' life depended on him figuring it out!

Draco yawned again. He looked around the room, seeing an old chair lying on a pile of broken furniture, then took out his wand and Summoned it to him. It didn't look comfortable but for he only needed to sit down for a minute to rest. Draco dropped into the chair, trying to keep his eyes on the Cabinet, but his head drooped, his eyes fluttered, and he fell asleep.

"Draco."

Draco sat up, recognizing that voice. "Potter?" he said, wonderingly, looking around. "Where the hell are you?"

"The same place I've been for the past few months," the voice continued, barely loud enough to hear. "I'm dead and in the ground."

Draco snorted. "Where you belong! What're you bothering me for?"

"Just wondering what you're doing in here, staring at this cabinet," Harry's voice whispered.

"This?" Draco looked up at the cabinet again. "I'm trying to fix it, you idiot, what do you think I'm doing?"

"You tell me."

"I _am_ telling you. I've been working on this Cabinet since school started, trying to get it fixed." Draco was still looking around, trying to figure out where Potter was.

"What for?" the voice asked. Draco stared at the Cabinet, concentrating. Was the voice coming from inside the Cabinet? He stood up from the chair and approached it slowly.

"What do you care?" Draco asked. "You're dead anyway. You and your blood traitor friend Weasley." He pulled open the door of the Cabinet. It was empty.

"Just being nosy," Potter's voice replied. "What happens when the Cabinet's fixed?"

Draco leaned into the Cabinet, checking it thoroughly. Empty. "Heh," he chuckled. "You'll get a kick out of this. I'm going to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts. They'll go into the other Cabinet, in Borgin and Burkes, and come out of this one."

"So _that's_ what you were doing at Borgin and Burkes last August," the voice said. "You were making sure Borgin still had the other Cabinet."

Draco frowned. "How'd you know about that?"

"Because you're dreaming," Potter's voice said. "I know everything you know."

Draco laughed again. He shut the Cabinet and sat down in the chair. "You do, eh? So what am I doing about Dumbledore, then?"

"You're trying to kill him," Potter's voice replied. Draco's smile left his face.

"I have to," he said, tensely. "The Dark Lord ordered me to do it. Otherwise he'll kill _me_! And he'll kill my parents if I don't get this damned Cabinet working before the end of term. You need to piss off so I can get back to figuring this thing out."

"No, I think I'll stay and watch," the voice said, mockingly. "Or, I could go haunt You-Know-Who's dreams, if you'll say where he's at."

Draco shook his head. "I — can't. I know where he is, but I can't say. Aunt Bella says that's how the Fidelius works — even if you know where the secret location is, only the Secret Keeper can actually tell anyone."

"But this is only a dream," the voice pointed out. "You're the only one here. You can tell _yourself_ where You-Know-Who is located, can't you?"

That was true, Draco knew, but something didn't feel right about this, and he dithered on whether to tell himself where You-Know-Who was.

Could Snape be tricking him somehow? Draco couldn't see it — Snape didn't even know about this room or what he was doing here; he only knew that Draco was supposed to kill Dumbledore before the end of the school year.

"I shouldn't even have to do that," Draco shrugged. "I _know_ the Dark Lord is at my house." He yawned hugely. "I shouldn't be this tired if I'm already asleep, should it?"

"Just close your eyes," the voice suggested. "You'll wake up soon enough."

Draco nodded, closed his eyes and was soon snoring softly. Harry appeared from behind the Vanishing Cabinet, standing before Malfoy's sleeping form.

It had been pretty simple, he reflected, to sneak in with Malfoy as he stepped through the door into this version of the Room of Requirement. He'd been surprised at all the stuff in the room, and how large it was. Best of all, he now knew what Malfoy was doing in here and where Voldemort was hiding himself.

Malfoy had not proven difficult at all to Mesmerize and trick into revealing Voldemort's location, despite the constraint the Fidelius Charm placed on him. It made him wonder whether Snape had been holding back, somehow, in spite of Harry's mesmerizing power.

At the very least, Harry thought, he could put a stop to Malfoy's attempt to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Moving to the Vanishing Cabinet, he picked it up and carried it deeper into the maze of corridors and stacks of objects in this room, looking for an ideal spot to hide it. Finding a corridor with a large stack of books, he pushed the cabinet into the stack until there was enough room for a few rows of books in front of it, then used his vampiric speed to stack books in front of it until it was completely hidden. He even added another row of books, stacked about waist high, in front of it to make it look like more rows of books had been stacked there. Malfoy would have to climb the stacks of books to find the Cabinet hidden within them.

Leaving Malfoy asleep where he was sitting, Harry exited the Room, watching as the door disappeared as he shut it. It was nearly midnight now, the time he and Ron were supposed to arrive in Dumbledore's office to discuss the plan to attack Voldemort. Would Snape reveal the location to him and Ron then, or would he try to keep it to himself? It didn't matter — now that he knew, there was no way Snape or Dumbledore could keep them from finding Voldemort and putting an end to him, once and for all.


	16. War Plans

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

**Chapter Sixteen  
><strong>"**War Plans"**

Updated August 31, 2012

=ooo=

Draco Malfoy slowly opened his eyes, unsure of where he was. The last he remembered he'd been in the Room of Lost Things, working on the Vanishing Cabinet. But had that been a dream? He remembered hearing Harry Potter's voice; but Potter was dead, so it _must_ have been a dream! So where was he now?

Draco sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and looked around. Towering piles of discarded books, desks and chairs, rusted swords, dented helmets and broken pieces of armor were heaped all around him. He _was_ in the Room of Lost Things! He must have fallen asleep…

Draco suddenly came to full alert, alarmed by what he saw. Or rather, what he _didn't_ see. _Where was the Vanishing Cabinet_?! There was an open space in front of him where the Cabinet ought to be! Draco looked around wildly, trying to see it. The bloody thing couldn't have just walked off, could it?!

Draco felt his blood run cold. If that Cabinet had disappeared, he was _dead_. His parents were dead. And that couldn't happen, not after all of the work he'd put into that Cabinet over the past year! He nearly had it fixed—he just had to find it make a final few adjustments! Draco stood, trying not to let his knees shake. It _had_ to be in this room somewhere, as big as it was.

Draco took out his wand and held it in his palm, his hand flat. "Point me Vanishing Cabinet," he told it. The wand began to move…

=ooo=

"It makes perfect sense, now that I know," Ron said, annoyed at how simple the answer was. Malfoy Manor, it was so bloody simple! "We should have thought of that ourselves!"

"That's why the Fidelius Charm is so useful, even if it's incredibly hard to cast," Harry agreed. "We could be standing right next to it and not know where it was."

He and Ron were standing at the base of the tower where the Headmaster's office was located, preparing for their meeting with Dumbledore and Snape. They were supposed to discuss a plan to enter Malfoy Manor and kill Voldemort. Baron von Necros was supposed to be there as well, if Dumbledore was able to contact him. Snape was supposed to reveal where Voldemort's headquarters was to them tonight.

But Harry hadn't trusted the former Defense professor (now turned Master vampire through some potion he'd formulated) to tell them the truth. He'd tricked Draco Malfoy into revealing Voldemort's location to him, and had sabotaged his plans to bring Death Eaters into the castle using Vanishing Cabinets by hiding the cabinet in the Room of Lost Things deeper within the room, where Malfoy would never find it. Harry had a plan for that Cabinet, assuming Snape was still his usual devious self, Master vampire or not.

Ron was looking up toward the top window of the tower, where Dumbledore's office was located. The window was well over a hundred feet above the ground. "I guess we'd better go up and see what's going on," he said to Harry. "D'you want to try something different this time?"

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"We should be able to climb up, right?" Ron suggested. "Vamps can do that, can't they?"

"Yes, we should be able to cling to walls quite easily," Harry grinned. "I just did that, you know. I was hanging above Malfoy while he was opening the Room of Requirement earlier tonight. When he opened the door I climbed down the wall and slipped into the Room before he could shut it."

"Brilliant, mate!" Ron cheered. "So, do you fancy a race, then?"

"Sure, if you fancy being beaten," Harry told him.

"You think you can beat me?" Ron shook his head skeptically. "You can fly rings around me, Harry, but I can climb like a spider now. Which is ironic since I've never liked spiders before."

"All right, then, let's have a go," Harry agreed. The two of them placed their hands on the tower wall. "On the count of three, then. One — two —"

"Three!" Ron finished abruptly, shooting upward as he said the number. Harry snorted and began climbing as well, slowly gaining on Ron.

"You're going down, Harry!" Ron yelled at him as the two of them ascended the tower almost as fast as a man could run on flat ground. Harry pushed even harder, gaining on Ron, until both of them reached the window of Dumbledore's office, both hands grasping the outside windowsill at the same time. "A tie!" Ron called out.

"I would've won if you hadn't cheated," Harry said, pushing open the window and stepping inside. Ron jumped down beside him.

"Don't be a sore loser, mate," Ron replied in mock consolation, giving Harry light punch in the arm.

"If you two are through acting like children," a sallow voice drawled contemptuously, "we have important matters to discuss."

Snape was standing next to Dumbledore's desk, glaring at them. The Headmaster himself was seated at his desk, a neutral expression on his face, though his blue eyes held a crinkle of amusement about them.

And in the shadows of the room, Harry sensed another vampiric presence, one he now easily recognized. The presence stepped forward, revealing the form of von Necros. "It is good to see the two of you once again," the vampire said softly, giving each of them a small bow.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. He gestured to a number of chairs arrayed in front of his desk. "Shall we begin the meeting?"

"I'm for that," Harry said, flatly, and took a chair on Dumbledore's left. He wanted to be able to see Snape's face while they were talking, to gauge his thoughts now that his mind was no longer open to Harry's vampiric powers of mind reading and control. Ron sat down next to him.

Snape gestured for von Necros to take the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, and Ron shot a glance at Harry. Did that mean von Necros was the source of Snape's vampirism? Harry wondered that, too, but he only faintly shrugged; they would need to find out more to be sure.

"We are here tonight," Dumbledore began, after everyone had taken a seat, "to discuss a plan to infiltrate Voldemort's headquarters and defeat him."

"You mean kill him, don't you?" Ron added.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I do mean that, Mr. Weasley."

"Even though he's immune to death," Harry put in. He looked around the room. "I assume everyone here knows about Voldemort's Horcruxes by now." The looks he received answered the question for him.

"He is not precisely immune to death, Harry," Dumbledore pointed out. "The Killing Curse that rebounded from you was able to destroy his body, leaving him a disembodied spirit. It took him a decade to regain enough strength to merge with Professor Quirrell, and three more years before he had a body that could be restored to his original form."

"He has continued to build his power since returning," Snape said. "Ollivander is his prisoner, and he seeks a solution to the _Priori Incatatem_ problem he experienced with Potter after his return."

"I would like to ask Severus a question," von Necros turned to Snape. "Do you know how many Death Eaters Voldemort has now?"

"Between 50 and 100," Snape answered.

"Can you now narrow that down any more?" the old vampire asked.

"Since the Dark Lord's return," Snape explained, "he has not placed the Dark Mark on many of his new recruits. This allows them to move freely without risk of being discovered. The Ministry has a record of the Dark Lord's followers who had the Dark Mark, and because of Kingsley Shacklebolt the Order of the Phoenix has that list as well. Those who held the original Dark Mark currently number 38."

"What does something like that matter?" Ron wanted to know. "We're going after You-Know-Who, not Death Eaters."

"It is a reasonable question," Snape contradicted him. "We do not know how many defenders will be with Voldemort when I am called back to headquarters."

"Which is where, exactly?" Harry demanded. "You're no longer bound by the Fidelius — you can tell us where Voldemort is hiding. Why don't you just say it so we'll all know?"

Snape made no reply; he merely stared unflinchingly at Harry, who stared defiantly back. "Well?" Harry finally asked. "Bat got your tongue?"

It was Dumbledore who finally spoke. "Harry, we have been discussing this —"

"'_We'_ have?" Harry interrupted. "I don't remember when 'we' had any such discussion, Professor."

"Severus and I have been discussing it," Dumbledore amplified. "I believe Severus has the best chance of getting close to Voldemort and taking control of him so he might reveal the location of his remaining Horcruxes."

"And what about us?" Ron demanded. "Aren't we in this fight, too?!"

"You are," Dumbledore agreed, though he seemed reluctant to say so. "But you are underage —"

"_I'm_ not," Ron reminded him. "I died just after my seventeenth birthday, remember?" He pointed accusingly at von Necros. "_He_ made sure of that!"

"That was to keep you from dying," von Necros spoke up. "You would not have survived the poisoning otherwise."

"And what difference does my _age_ make?" Harry wanted to know. Anger was boiling up inside him. "I'm a _vampire_ now! I'm never going to get any older anyway! I'm stuck at the age I am now, forever!" He glared at von Necros. "Again, thanks to you! Whatever you were thinking when you decided to completely alter my life for me, it didn't work out that well, did it?!"

"Situations change —" Dumbledore started to say —

"Oh well, _there's_ one of your better brain waves, Professor!" Harry sneered. "'So sorry, Harry and Ron, but we don't need you anymore, so I suppose you'll just have to remain vampires for the rest of your unnatural lives!'" He looked furiously at the men who'd ruined his and Ron's lives.

"There is another alternative," von Necros spoke quietly, in contrast to Harry's shouting.

"I'd love to hear it," Harry snorted, folding his arms across his chest.

"Have either of you killed a human, either by drinking their blood or by physical force?" the vampire asked.

Ron and Harry glanced at one another. "No," they both said.

"Have either of you drunk the blood of a unicorn against its will?" von Necros continued.

"Er —" Ron looked uncomfortable, then turned to Harry with a helpless shrug.

"Almost," Harry said. "We tried to mesmerize a unicorn into giving us blood, but it gored Ron and ran away, and Hagrid showed up and shot me with an arrow…"

Snape sighed in exasperation, and Dumbledore looked concerned. "Harry, are you saying that Hagrid knows the two of you are still alive?"

"He doesn't, though," Harry insisted. "I made him think he dreamed it. The only one who knows about us is Hermione. And Luna, I guess, but nobody'd believe her if she told them, anyway."

"Completely irresponsible," Snape said to Dumbledore. "I told you, Dumbledore — these two cannot even be trusted to act like adults, much less accompany me on the mission to stop the Dark Lord."

"I do not entirely agree, Severus," Dumbledore replied, calmly. "But before we return to that detail, I wish to hear what Baron von Necros was getting to."

Von Necros acknowledged the headmaster with a nod, then resumed. "If neither of you have become Dark, you may yet be returned to normal."

"Really?" Ron gasped.

"How?" Harry asked eagerly.

"The death of the vampire who Made you will allow you to return to your human state," von Necros told them.

Harry nodded; that had stirred a memory in him. "Sanguini told us that once," he remembered. "But that means…"

"Yes," von Necros confirmed. "My death will return you and Ron to life. After Voldemort has been destroyed, if I am still alive, I will willingly give up my life so the two of you can return to being normal human beings once again."

Harry rocked back on his heels. "We — we found a burned body in your castle," he told the vampire. We wondered if it was you."

"Of course it wasn't," von Necros replied. "You would have turned human the moment I died."

"And the Grand Coven would have destroyed us," Harry finished. "Why didn't you tell us this _before_?!" he asked furiously. "We could have been a lot more careful!"

"I was not sure before that my actions were as ill-conceived as I now see them to be," von Necros answered. "In addition, the original plan was to have _you_ kill Voldemort, Harry, by draining him of blood — that would most likely have turned you Dark, even though there is very little humanity left in the Dark Lord now."

"And it wouldn't have worked, anyway," Harry pointed out, angrily. "Voldemort still has other Horcruxes out there — we didn't even know that for sure until Hermione got Professor Slughorn to give us his memory of the conversation he had with Tom Riddle about Horcruxes."

"Dumbledore has since told me of that," von Necros said, softly. "I would not have believed any human could split his soul in so many parts. But now that we _do_ know these things, the plan to have Severus Snape infiltrate Voldemort's hideout and discover the locations of those missing Horcruxes is the optimal plan. We will dispatch teams to find those Horcruxes and return them to Hogwarts, where they can be destroyed."

"How?" Ron asked.

"Basilisk venom," Harry remembered. "That's how I destroyed the diary. Professor Dumbledore told me earlier this year it was a Horcrux."

"And the Sword of Gryffindor is capable of destroying Horcruxes as well," Dumbledore added. "It gained the ability to do that when you killed the Basilisk, Harry. Goblin-made arms are capable of imbibing that which strengthens them."

"So you're saying we'll be on one of these teams, rather than going in with Snape," Harry said, tightly. That wasn't the way he pictured bringing down Voldemort, by scavenger-hunting for his Horcruxes.

"Von Necros and members of the Order will support Severus on his mission," Dumbledore continued, "and after Severus has gained control of Voldemort, will bring them in to secure his headquarters. Once the Horcruxes are destroyed, Severus will kill Voldemort by draining his blood. But there is something else to consider, Harry."

"What's that?" Harry asked in a flat voice.

"An interpretation of the Prophecy suggests that only you can kill Voldemort, and vice versa. If that is the case, it may be necessary for you to enter his headquarters and perform the _coup de grace_."

"It's nice to know I might be needed for _some_ small detail," Harry said sarcastically. "Will you need me to make the funeral arrangements as well?"

"Typical, Potter," Snape said, scornfully. "Even when asked to make a real contribution to our efforts you refuse to be serious."

"Serious?" Harry looked at Snape, incredulous. "Oh, right. I've only been turned into a vampire — against my will, by the way, by another vampire who wants me to kill the biggest Dark Lord of the century. And I've only been marked for death by a secret organization of vampires who are centuries older and more powerful than me. And I've only just been told that none of that matters now, that all I need to do is go fetch a trinket or two from some unknown location, and _maybe_ I'll be needed to kill that Dark Lord if nobody else can do it, which will condemn me to eternity as a vampire. Serious, right!

"The best thing is," Harry went on, as Snape continued to stare stonily at him. "I'll actually _do_ it, because that's how bad Voldemort needs killing. I don't know what your excuse is, Snape, but I'm not in this because I think it's cool or exciting to run around playing hero. I'm in it because it needs to be done."

"How dare you —" Snape began.

"Severus," Dumbledore cut him off. "Harry is upset, as you must realize."

"Damn straight I'm upset!" Harry shouted. "Didn't anyone think this plan _through_? If Snape can go in and mesmerize Voldemort Ron and I didn't have to become vampires, did we?!"

"Harry, I'm sorry —" von Necros said, but Harry put up a hand to stop him.

"Whatever," he said dismissively. "Do whatever you want. Send a message down to the Chamber of Secrets when you need us again, okay? Come on, Ron — let's go." Harry moved at top speed to the window, followed by Ron. A moment later they were gone.

Dumbledore, Snape and von Necros stood silently for several moments regarding the window the two teens had disappeared through. Finally von Necros spoke. "They will be alright, Albus. It is in the nature of fledgling vampires to be impatient, to crave excitement. It is also one reason why so few manage to survive long enough to become Master vampires."

"Do you really plan to die if we are successful in stopping the Dark Lord?" Snape asked von Necros, curious in spite of his cold demeanor.

"Wouldn't you, if it would spare young lives?" von Necros replied.

Snape did not answer.

=ooo=

"So now what?" Ron asked. He and Harry had just finished drinking from a deer they'd taken in the Forbidden Forest, and they were feeling more or less satiated.

"I wish I knew," Harry muttered. Feeding had made him feel better, but the warm, sweet blood now coursing through him was making him even more restless, more anxious to go out and _do_ something. "Snape is probably right."

Ron's eyebrows went up. "Huh? Never thought I'd hear you admit _that_, mate."

"Their plan makes sense," Harry said. "Sending Snape in to mesmerize Voldemort is a good idea; Voldemort trusts him, I suppose, as much as he trusts anyone, which isn't much. I've been in his head enough to know that much, at least."

"And we can be human again," Ron reminded him. He looked back at the dead deer. "Though I'm not sure I want to go back, in a way…"

"Would you rather hide out in the Chamber of Secrets or the Forbidden Forest forever, drinking from deer and other animals?" Harry asked, sardonically. "Or maybe you could go back home to the Burrow and share the attic with your pet ghoul? Your mum could start raising pigs and chickens for you? That sounds like fun."

"Alright, then," Ron conceded. "Being human again will be a good thing. Do you really think von Necros would let himself be killed just to save us? He's hundreds of years older than we are, why would he want to give up now?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head. "I wish we knew what happened to Sanguini — he might be able to tell us what von Necros is thinking."

"Do you think those ashes we found in von Necros' castle was him?" Ron wondered.

"Could have been," Harry agreed. "If it was, Sanguini died protecting his master. I don't know if it would fool the Grand Coven, though; Professor Dumbledore told us Master vampires can recognize one of their own."

"And what _about_ the Grand Coven?" Ron wanted to know. "Do you think they've given up on us?"

"Probably not," Harry surmised. "If Dumbledore's right they want Voldemort as much as we do, but they want him to be their puppet at the Ministry. Dumbledore and the Order will have to go after Voldemort pretty quickly if they want to prevent that. But, you know…" Harry almost smiled at the thought. "Luna told me she thought Rufus Scrimgeour was a vampire. Who's to say the Grand Coven hasn't already taken over the Ministry and made Scrimgeour their puppet?"

"That's a cheerful idea," Ron sniggered. "At least we know _that_ hasn't happened yet — he showed up at the Burrow with Percy in the middle of the day on Christmas…"

"It's pretty far-fetched," Harry agreed. "But I don't think the idea of the Coven controlling Voldemort to do the same thing is that far out." He thought for several seconds, considering what he'd first conceived of while hiding the Vanishing Cabinet from Malfoy in the Room of Requirement. "Come on," he said suddenly. "I've got something to show you."

"What now?"

"I want to show you what Malfoy's been working on."

"Really? You found out?" Ron looked excited. "Let's go!" Harry and Ron both ran from the Forbidden Forest, moving at full speed, too fast to be seen. Harry led them around the castle to the window in the corridor where the Room of Requirement was located. They both flew up this time, landing on the windowsill. However, the window was latched shut from the inside now.

"That's a bloody nuisance," Ron muttered, staring at the latch. "Now what?" he asked Harry. "We can just break the glass and reach through —"

"No," Harry stopped him. "That might set off an alarm. Let me try something." Harry's fingernails began pulling at the lead molding holding the glass in place. He worked quickly, removing the lead around the entire pane, then slipped a fingernail along one side and turned it out. He reached in and opened the latch, then put the glass back in the frame and pressed the lead back around it. Moments later they were standing in the seventh-floor corridor before the blank area of wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

"D'you think this is going to work for us now, being vampires and all?" Ron asked.

"Hmm," Harry grunted. "I didn't think of that… I hope it will respond to my need. If not, we may have to get Hermione up here to open it for us."

Harry began pacing back and forth in front of the wall, muttering, "I need to get in the room with the Vanishing Cabinet," over and over. On his third pass the polished oak door appeared.

"Excellent!" Ron grinned, pulling it open, and he and Harry stepped inside.

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I left Malfoy in here not long ago," he whispered. "We should check if he's still here."

They both listened for the sound of a heartbeat, but there was nothing to indicate a living human was anywhere in the room. "Okay, follow me," Harry said, and he led them on a twisting, turning route through the corridors made of piles of hidden and discarded items, finally reaching the area where Harry had hidden the Cabinet.

"Huh," Ron said. "Is _that_ how you hid it?"

"No," Harry said. "Dammit!" Stacks of books had been overturned onto the floor, revealing the Vanishing Cabinet hidden behind them. "I stacked those books higher than the Vanishing Cabinet itself!" he said angrily. "How did Malfoy find it so quickly?!"

"Magic, maybe?" Ron said, giving Harry a matter-of-fact look. "He _is_ a wizard, you know."

"So where is he, then?" Harry grumbled, unhappy that he'd underestimated Malfoy. "He was trying to fix this thing — why would he find it then leave it here?"

"Maybe he did fix it," Ron suggested. "Maybe he went through to the other Cabinet."

That made sense, Harry thought. "They must've moved the other Cabinet to Malfoy Manor by now," he guessed. "Malfoy is probably there telling his dad about you and me being alive."

"And _he'll_ tell You-Know-Who, won't he?" Ron added. "Do you think he knows about Snape?"

"I don't think so, Snape was still human when you found Malfoy trying to —" Harry hesitated "—um, you know, Hermione…"

"Yeah, I know," Ron said, darkly. "I still owe the little ferret for that! So what d'you want to do now, Harry? If Malfoy went through, maybe we can, too."

Ironically, that had been Harry's original plan — beat Snape and the others to Malfoy Manor, mesmerize Voldemort and make him give up the location of his Horcruxes, then he and Ron would fly Voldemort to those locations and force him to recover them, bring them all back to Hogwarts where they could be destroyed, then —

But now the idea that he and Ron could return to being human if von Necros sacrificed himself for them was something he couldn't afford to ignore. Even if he and Ron were dead as far as the Wizarding world was concerned, they could still lead normal lives, more or less. But if he killed Voldemort, he'd be turned irrevocably Dark and remain a vampire forever.

Unless — _What if he became human again, _then_ killed Voldemort_? If von Necros saw that they had Voldemort in their power and that all of his Horcruxes were destroyed, would he be willing to give up his life for his and Ron's humanity, and then Harry could administer the _coup de grace_? Dumbledore could do it, too, since he was going to die anyway from the curse in his hand. Or even Snape, if it came to that, because he'd willingly made himself a vampire!

"You heard what Snape said," Harry reminded him. "There could be 50 or more Death Eaters with Voldemort — do you think we can fight that many at once?"

"I dunno," Ron said, after a moment's thought. "That's a lot of Death Eaters to fight. What if we just went there and sort of scoped the place out, you know? Check and see how many of 'em around, and take 'em on only if the number seems right. We might be able to sneak in without anyone noticing us and snatch You-Know-Who out from under their noses!"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, warming to the idea. "We could do that. Worst case, we come back here, smash this Vanishing Cabinet, and Snape and the Order can go after Voldemort. I think we should do it!"

They both jumped into the Vanishing Cabinet. "So how does this work?" Ron looked at Harry blankly.

"I'm not sure. I was in one of these before," Harry said, remembering. "The first time I used the Floo at your house, I tried to go to Diagon Alley but I ended up in Borgin and Burke's. When I heard voices I jumped into the Cabinet that was in the store. It was Malfoy and his dad, talking to Mr. Borgin. I watched them through a crack in the door."

"Why it didn't send you to this one?" Ron wondered.

"I dunno. Maybe it was because I didn't shut the door all the way," Harry guessed. "Shall we have a try?"

Ron nodded agreement. Harry reached out and pulled the door slowly closed. As soon as it clicked shut a strange sensation passed through them, as if they were being whirled around without moving. The sensation suddenly stopped, leaving them feeling a little disoriented. "D'you think it worked?" Ron whispered.

"Something definitely happened," Harry whispered back. "Listen — do you hear heartbeats?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, two. Real close by. I hear others further away. I think we're in Malfoy Manor, Harry!"

"I'll go for Voldemort," Harry said, "if he's in the room, you get whoever's with him. Are you ready?"

"Ready," Ron agreed. They each reached forward and threw open the Cabinet doors.

Draco Malfoy and Mr. Borgin were pointing wands at them. They were on the darkened sales floor of Borgin and Burke's, not Malfoy Manor.

"_What the hell_?!" all of them said at the same time.


	17. Maneuvers

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

**Chapter Seventeen  
><strong>"**Maneuvers"**

Updated September 22, 2012

=ooo=

Harry and Ron looked at one another, surprised at not finding themselves in Malfoy Manor. At the same moment Draco and Borgin glanced at each other and nodded, as if silently confirming their next action. Both of them shouted "_Avada Kedavra_!"

But vampiric reflexes react much more quickly than human ones, even wizard reflexes, so before Draco and Borgin had said more than "_Avada_ —" Harry and Ron had surged forward out of the Cabinet, moving around behind the two wizards, so that the two green bolts of the Killing Curse slammed into the back of the Vanishing Cabinet, destroying it.

Both men lowered their wands, surveying the wreckage of the Cabinet with horror. "_Damn it_!" Draco shouted. All of his work on the Vanishing Cabinets — ruined in seconds! And the two men he'd seen, they'd looked like…

But no, that couldn't be, could it? He started to turn toward Borgin, to ask the oily shopkeeper if he'd seen what Draco thought he'd seen, when a cold hand clamped onto his shoulder and spun him around.

Draco reacted instantly even as he turned, his wand moving to deliver a Stunner at point-blank range, but his wand was suddenly plucked from his hand, and he found himself staring into eyes of green ice.

"P-P-_Potter_?!" Draco sputtered, completely flabberghasted. "But — but — you're _dead_!"

"That's the rumor," Harry snarled. He glanced past Malfoy to where Ron held Borgin's wand threateningly against the man's neck, even though he couldn't cast a spell with it. Well, neither Borgin nor Malfoy would know that unless they told them.

"What are you doing with these Vanishing Cabinets?" Harry demanded of Malfoy.

Malfoy's eyes were wide with confusion and fear. But he must've retained enough sense to cover himself. "Wouldn't you like to know, Potter? Did you two lose your way to the pearly gates?" he sneered. "Come back to haunt Hogwarts? You're a bit off there, aren't you — Hogwarts is way up north."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. "I don't think he's taking us seriously, Harry," Ron said. "Do you?"

"I don't think so, either," Harry replied, his voice almost a hiss. He'd _really_ wanted to find himself in Malfoy Manor!

Ron gave Borgin a threatening look. "Maybe Mr. Borgin here will tell us," he said, lifting the shopkeeper in the air by the front of his robes.

"No! No!" Borgin squeaked in terror. "I mean — yes! Yes!"

"Shut it, Borgin!" Malfoy commanded.

"He made me tell him how to fix them!" Borgin gibbered, ignoring Malfoy. "He said when they were fixed, people would come here one night and I was to let them in and they would go into the Cabinet, and when they came back to let them leave and never tell anyone they'd been here!"

"Death Eaters, I'd bet," Harry snarled at Malfoy, who pulled back in fear in spite of his cocky attitude. "What if they murdered _your_ friends, Malfoy?"

"We know our own, Potter," Malfoy snapped back, trying to hide his fear. "You're fighting a losing battle — the Dark Lord's going to win, and we'll be rid of the Mudbloods and the Muggleborns — and people like _you_, for that matter!"

Harry wanted to tear Malfoy's neck out, he was so angry. It was hard to resist doing it — the Slytherin's neck was pulsing with warm, tasty blood. No one would miss this waste of skin. But Harry shoved him away.

"He's not going to do with _your_ help," Harry said, pointing at the Cabinet with Malfoy's wand. "You've made sure of that yourself."

Malfoy looked back at the wrecked Cabinet and seemed to shrink. "Do you know what you've done to me, Potter?! I'm dead. My mother and father are _dead_! _He's_ not going to let this go unpunished. And the punishment will be the end of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy."

As angry as Harry was, he didn't respond — he couldn't say what he was thinking, that Malfoy and his father and mother deserved what they got for choosing the easy way over the right way. "It doesn't have to be that way," he said, quietly.

Malfoy stared at him, incredulous. "What do you mean, Potter? He's going to kill me and my family and there's nothing _anyone_ can do about it!"

"Dumbledore can help you —"

"Oh come on!" Malfoy shouted, cutting him off. "That senile old fool? He doesn't even know half of what's going on in his own school!"

"He knows more than you think, Malfoy," Harry said furiously. "He knows where your precious Dark Lord is, and so do we!"

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing," he said at last. "You can't possibly know — and if you think Borgin or I are going to tell you, you're both mental! We couldn't tell you if we _knew_!"

"Oh, we know you know," Ron sneered at him. "And we know why you can't tell us: he's got the Fidelius on his hidey-hole, doesn't he?"

"So," Malfoy sneered right back. "That just proves we can't tell you, only the Secret-Keeper can do that!"

"Well that just means you aren't any use to us!" Ron snapped.

Borgin shrank back in fear. "What — what are y-you going to do to us?" he asked, his voice shaking.

Harry pondered only a moment. "We're going to make sure you won't tell anyone about us," he said, giving a nod to Ron.

Both of the suddenly lunged forward, both of them grabbing Malfoy and Borgin in an unbreakable hold and plunging their fangs into their necks. Harry took a couple of mouthfuls of Malfoy's blood, then with an effort pulled back. Ron was still drinking from Borgin. "Ron!" Harry said sharply, and Ron pulled back with a toothy, guilty grin, his lips smeared with blood.

"Sorry," he said. "Humans taste a lot better than animals."

"We only need to take enough to control them," Harry said. He looked around the place, wondering what the other Death Eaters knew, then turned back to Malfoy. "_Who did you tell that the Vanishing Cabinets were fixed_?" he demanded.

Malfoy's expression had gone slack, as if he were in a Veritaserum-induced trance. "I told Borgin and he was supposed to owl the others we were ready tonight," he replied, his voice dull and flat.

"_Who are the others_?"

"My Aunt Bellatrix, the Carrows, and Thorfinn Rowle," Draco answered. "Aunt Bella said there may be others coming as well, she didn't say who."

"Not much room in that Cabinet for more," Harry mused, "Unless you go in groups." He gestured to the oily shopkeeper. "Ask him if he owled them, Ron."

Ron turned to Borgin. "_Did you owl them the Cabinet was ready? Tell us_!"

"I was about to," Borgin said in a voice as dull as Draco's. "But then we heard a noise in the Vanishing Cabinet and came to investigate before I could send the owl."

"Well, that's not happening now, anyway." He spoke in his Mesmerizing voice to Malfoy. "_You fixed the Vanishing Cabinet and used it to come to Borgin's shop, but you fell asleep and dreamed you saw a boggart come out of the Cabinet and turn into your worst fear. You cursed it with your wand but you only destroyed the Cabinet_. _Now go to sleep_." Malfoy slowly walked to a nearby chair and sat down. His head slumped forward onto his chest and he began to breathe slowly and steadily, asleep.

"Heh," Ron chuckled. "That's a good one." He told Borgin the same thing, then let him slump into a chair where the shopkeeper began to snore.

"What's our plan now?" Ron asked. "Do we go after You-Know-Who?"

But Harry was staring at Malfoy. He was beginning to see what impulsive actions could do to their chances of success. "I don't know. I don't know if rushing in there is such a good idea now."

"What do you mean?" Ron gestured impatiently at Malfoy and Borgin. "Look how easy we took out these two!"

"An old man and a kid our age," Harry countered. "We'll be going up against twenty times as many Death Eaters, and they won't just stand around while we bite them one by one to make them do our bidding!"

Ron shook his head, aggravated. "I think Malfoy's ferret blood affected your head, mate. You're thinking all dodgy and scared like him now!"

"No, Ron," Harry disagreed. "If anything, drinking human blood again has made me think more clearly. I still want to go after Voldemort, but we can't just barge into Malfoy Manor and expect to just walk up to Voldemort and make him give up because we're big, bad vampires. We have to think about this!"

Ron was bouncing up and down on his heels, clearly anxious to do _something_. "So what do we do, then? Go back and join up with Snape and the Order?"

"I don't know about that, either," Harry dithered. "I don't think Dumbledore will even let us go to Malfoy Manor. He thinks Snape can do it."

"What do _you_ think?" Ron asked. "Snape's been doing pretty good as a spy for Dumbledore."

"If that's what he is," Harry muttered. "I still don't know about that. If he's managed to make himself a vampire he's not in a bad position if the Grand Coven takes over Voldemort after he overthrows the Ministry."

"That's true, I guess, but so what?" Ron shrugged. "We're not going to let him do that, are we?"

"No-o-o…" Harry said, slowly. "But do we go back to Hogwarts and be part of Dumbledore's plan or do we try this on our own?"

"I say we go for it," Ron said immediately. "We can sneak right in under their noses, find You-Know-Who, and put the evil eye on him. As long as we stay out of sight after that, we can make old Snake-Lips do whatever we want, and maybe he'll 'decide' to leave the Malfoys and have a look at his Horcrux collection."

Harry stifled a grin. Ron was certainly gung-ho about this — he was normally a little more cautious about taking risks than Harry had been in the past six years. Compared to Hermione, sometimes he could be a downright fraidy-cat.

Borgin and Malfoy were still out, and they would be for some time; at least until he and Ron had to sleep and their influence rolled back a bit. That might be just as well — the Vanishing Cabinet looked wrecked beyond repair. Harry was tempted to tear it apart, but he and Ron had already implanted memories in Malfoy and the shopkeeper; they would be frantic when they woke up and saw the damage they had caused!

"Tell you what," he said to Ron. "I think we have enough time to fly to Wiltshire, where Malfoy Manor is. If we get there with enough time before dawn, we can check the place out, look for vulnerabilities and find a way in. Then, after nightfall, we can go in, find Voldemort, and get him to show us where his Horcruxes are. Once they're destroyed, we can go from there."

"Sounds like a plan!" Ron agreed enthusiastically. Moments later the two young vampires had exited Borgin's shop and taken to the night skies, heading west.

=ooo=

Dumbledore, Snape and von Necros had spent nearly the entire night planning for the siege on Malfoy Manor. Different strategies and tactics had been discussed, but most of them boiled down to Snape exerting influence over Voldemort and keeping the other Death Eaters who were close to him convinced that he was still acting normally, and learning the number and location of the remaining Horcruxes.

The most dangerous step would be Snape's initial meeting with Voldemort; Dumbledore insisted that Voldemort trusted no one except himself, while Snape was of the opinion he'd gained the Dark Lord's trust, even more so than Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy, who was now in disgrace and imprisoned in Azkaban.

"I believe it will work, Albus," von Necros said at last. "It is risky, especially during the time needed to gather the Horcruxes and destroy them.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, his voice weary. His strength had slowly diminished since last August when he found the ring Horcrux and, discovering it was the Resurrection Stone, foolishly put it on, forgetting that Voldemort would likely have cursed it. The curse that had been bound up in his hand was slowly killing him; he would not last past the summer, certainly. "But I foresee no difficulties beyond the time it will take, and that should not be overly long; Voldemort would have scattered his Horcruxes to different locations, but none of them would be farther than several Apparition-lengths for him. It is possible he checks on them from time to time."

"Are you feeling unwell, Headmaster?" Snape asked, though there was no kindness in his voice. "Perhaps we should adjourn for the night and conclude any further discussion tomorrow evening.

"No, no," Dumbledore waved away the suggestion, then took a deep breath, visibly shaking off his weariness. "We are nearly finished now. I shall inform the other members of the Order the first thing in the morning and coordinate the teams they will form for the assault on the castle once you have ordered Voldemort to inconspicuously drop the wards shielding it, including the Fidelius. Von Necros will be able to support you should the element of surprise be lost and you need to force your way in."

"That will not be required," Snape said, coldly. "I will be able to approach the Dark Lord when we are next called to a meeting. I will inform you when the Dark Lord calls so you may prepare the others for their tasks. Baron von Necros," he finished, giving the vampire an inscrutable stare, "will not be required to support me in an assault of the manor. I do not wish that any of the non-combatants there be harmed."

"Playing it safe, Snape?" von Necros smiled, but did not show his teeth.

"Hardly," Snape drawled, "considering what is being asked of me."

"What do you mean, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, not understanding the exchange between the old and new vampires.

"It is a long-held belief among us," von Necros explained, "that when a vampire controls another person, he becomes responsible for that person's actions. If Voldemort has made himself Secret-Keeper of the Fidelius that hides him at Malfoy Manor, and that seems almost certain, then everyone in that manor is his responsibility, and they will become Snape's responsibility while he controls Voldemort. If anyone dies before the Fidelius is dispelled, Snape will be responsible for their deaths, because of Voldemort's link to them as Secret-Keeper."

Dumbledore looked concerned. "All the more reason to allow von Necros to assist you, Severus —"

"Have I not made myself clear, Headmaster?" Snape snapped. "I-do-not-require-his-help!"

There was an uncomfortable silence. Then von Necros said lightly, trying to dispel the mood, "You must have a lot of faith in the potion that made you a vampire, Potions Master."

Snape did not _quite_ rise to the bait, but a corner of his mouth quirked. "It was the most complex potion I have ever brewed, Master vampire, and obtaining its ingredients was extremely difficult and wildly dangerous."

"I can imagine," von Necros said evenly.

"I doubt that," Snape disagreed. "I will not divulge any details of the brewing instructions, but suffice to say, if I had failed to procure the necessary ingredients I would not be alive today."

"Are the effects of this potion reversible, Severus?" Dumbledore asked. "Didn't you tell me it was based on the Animagus potion?"

Snape smiled coldly. "I did not, but since you seem to have guessed I will divulge that much. I was able to use that potion as a starting point for the Vampiric Transformation Potion, as I call it. There is no antidote. The only possible cure is the one von Necros pointed out to Potter and Weasley — the vampire who made me would have to die before I killed someone and became Dark."

"But no vampire _made_ you, or so you've said," von Necros objected. "What are you not telling us, Snape? _Were_ you Made by another vampire?"

But Snape still refused to answer, shaking his head stubbornly instead of responding. "We are only trying to understand, Severus," Dumbledore said in a final effort. "If there is some way for you to be normal once again —"

"That will remain my business, Headmaster," Snape said, with finality. "If possible I plan to return to my former self. If not, however, it is a burden I am willing to bear for the greater good."

A shadow seemed to pass across Dumbledore's face at these last words. "I see," he nodded slowly. "Very well, Severus, I suggest you find somewhere to take your rest, tomorrow will be quite busy for all of us."

This time it was Snape's turn to look confused. "What do you mean, Dumbledore? I have not yet been summoned to Malfoy Manor."

"I believe we are past waiting for that to occur, Severus," Dumbledore replied. "Voldemort's power and influence grows stronger each day, and we know he already has made alliances with the giants and dementors. The longer we wait to attack him, the more likely he is to learn of our plans, somehow. We shall not tarry longer — I intend for us to move against him tomorrow evening after you and von Necros have awakened from your daily rest. I will make your excuses in your Defense classes for today."

Snape did not look happy. "An attack now seems premature, Dumbledore. We do not have accurate numbers for Malfoy Manor. We do not know whether innocents will be present or not —"

"There may be no innocents where Voldemort is concerned," von Necros spoke. "You should let me assist you in infiltrating his hideout."

Snape was silent for some time. His face was expressionless, but the Headmaster knew he was controlling his anger at Dumbledore's sudden decision to attack now. "I will prepare myself for tomorrow evening," he said, stiffly. "I have a special room within my personal potions stores in my office; I will take my rest there and return here just at sunset tonight." Snape turned and strode toward the door; with an impatient gesture the polished oaken door swung open for him and he disappeared down the stone steps.

"Interesting," von Necros murmured, after hearing the wall at the base of the steps open and close. "He is able to affect objects from a distance, a rare power among even Master vampires."

"Why do you think he is unwilling to share the source of his vampiric powers?" Dumbledore asked.

"He is your man, Albus," von Necros pointed out. "You know him better than I. But I would suspect that his powers came from incorporating something from a very old Master, older even than I, so that he could acquire such strength so quickly. It would be very dangerous, taking something like that from one of us — I believe it would have to be blood or perhaps even a heart." Von Necros glanced at Dumbledore. "Do you trust him, Albus? _Really_ trust him?"

"Yes," Dumbledore replied instantly. "He will not fail us."

"I hope not," the vampire replied. "And for the record, I agree with your decision to attack quickly. We must get to Voldemort before the Grand Coven does. If he falls into their power we may be undone."

Dumbledore nodded, weary once again. "I must get some rest myself," he told von Necros, "I will be very busy once the sun comes up."

"Very well." von Necros moved fluidly to the window. "Sleep well, Albus, I will return at nightfall and we will begin the attack on Malfoy Manor." Von Necros disappeared through the window, leaving Dumbledore alone.

=ooo=

Saturday morning found Hermione in the Library getting reacquainted with some old friends — her school books. She had spent the last few nights wondering what Harry and Ron were up to since she'd left them in the Room of Requirement. She had hoped they would contact her, somehow — she was dying to know what was going on with Professor Snape and his transformation into a vampire, and where Voldemort headquarters were, and what they were planning to do about him.

But neither Harry nor Ron had reappeared since then, and she had no clear-cut way to reach them beyond going to the Room of Requirement to walk down to the Chamber of Secrets. Unfortunately her patrol duties as a prefect had prevented her from doing that, and Dean, the newest Gryffindor prefect (she had picked him to replace Ron as prefect and McGonagall had agreed) wasn't working out the way she'd hoped. Dean saw being a prefect as a way of impressing girls rather than a solemn duty he'd agreed to uphold. The last two times they had been slated to patrol together Dean had shown up late the first time and begged off early, he said, because he forgot to finish a paper that was due first thing the next morning.

But Hermione had heard afterward that Dean and a Hufflepuff girl from a year below him had met in a rendezvous, and he had not bothered to show up for their last patrol at all! Hermione had written him off as unreliable. She wished she could talk to Ginny about what was going on with Dean, but she and Ginny were still on the outs — Hermione hadn't spoken with her in weeks now. At least wasn't shooting her venomous looks anymore when they passed each other in the common room or in the halls, but Ginny looked away whenever Hermione tried to catch her eye.

It was upsetting, it was disappointing, but there was nothing Hermione could do about it until Ginny stopped giving her the silent treatment. In the meantime she had neglected her studying, reading only the assigned chapters in the classes she was in. Normally she felt she would have through all of her textbooks several times by now, instead of the mere three read-throughs she'd done this year so far. Harry and Ron's death had affected her greatly, and while it was comforting to know they were still alive, she was afraid they would never be human again. And even if they were made human again, how could they become part of Wizarding society once again?

A chair scraped across the stone floor nearby. Hermione sensed someone sitting down at the table across from her. She looked up, then sat bolt upright in surprise at who she saw.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed, then winced as Madam Pince immediately _shushed_ her. The redhead was staring solemnly at her across the table. "What's up?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice low this time.

"Nothing," Ginny said, just as quietly, but she was looking at Hermione with intense seriousness. "I just…" her voice trailed off.

Hermione managed a smile. "I know," she said, understanding. "I've missed you, too. Forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive," Ginny said quickly. "I'm the one who was being a bitch."

"Don't say that," Hermione told her earnestly. "Really, I know how upset I'd be if my best friend wouldn't share a secret with me."

"_Are_ we best friends?" Ginny asked, then beamed when Hermione nodded earnestly. "Good, I'm glad. I'm so sorry I wasn't a good friend to you when all you were doing was obeying Professor Dumbledore."

"It's okay," Hermione said. She felt wonderful now that she and Ginny had patched things up, and just when she'd been thinking about it! "So what have you been up to lately?"

"Not much," Ginny shrugged. "Well, I broke up with Dean. He was getting to be a jerk."

"I _know_," Hermione leaned forward conspiratorially. "I've heard he's been going out with other girls, I wondered if you two were still together."

"Not as of a week ago," Ginny muttered. "He kept trying to tell me what to do, how I should act — he kept saying 'I'm a prefect now so you have to obey me!' or crap like that, and I got fed up with it! Told him where he could shove his prefect's badge."

"You didn't!" Hermione breathed, smothering a giggle.

"Too right I did," Ginny said emphatically. "And that was the end of it. Think that's what he wanted, though — he'd already stopped wanting to study together, said he had 'more important things to do' than study. I began to get the picture before long."

"Yeah, he hasn't been helpful at all with our prefect duties," Hermione added. "I had to patrol alone the other night on the mid-morning shift, he didn't bother to show up or explain why he couldn't go on patrol with me. I may have to get McGonagall to take away his prefect's badge."

"That'll put a crimp in his social life," Ginny grinned. "He flashes that prefect's badge at a pretty girl every chance he gets these days. It's disgusting."

"Well, I suppose I'll give him one more chance tonight," Hermione considered. "But if he doesn't show up I'm going to McGonagall. The four to seven a.m. patrol time should be patrolled in pairs."

"Is that what you've got tonight?" Ginny asked.

"No, I've got the early shift tonight, seven to ten — I think the Head Girl realized I'm not getting much help from Dean," Hermione replied. "I'm surprised she hasn't said something to Professor McGonagall herself, but she's probably waiting for me to do something first."

"Why don't I come with you?" Ginny suggested. "We can catch up while you patrol, and you won't be alone."

Hermione was smiling broadly at her friend's suggestion. "That would be brilliant, Ginny!" she beamed. "I can show you what prefects do when they're on patrol — who knows, you might make prefect yourself next year!" Then her face fell. "Oh, but the Heads don't like non-prefects to go along on patrols. If one of them — or Mr. Filch — caught us we'd both be in trouble!"

"Damn, too bad," Ginny muttered, disappointed. But a moment later her face lit up with an idea. "You still got Harry's Invisibility Cloak?" she asked, lowering her voice even more.

Hermione nodded eagerly, instantly understanding. "Of course! Brilliant idea, Gin! We can keep it at the ready in case we hear someone approaching!" She reached across the table, grabbing Ginny's hand and squeezing it affectionately. "This will be so much fun!"

"Yes," Ginny agreed, smiling once again. "Okay, I'll see you in the common room a few minutes before seven and put it on before we leave on patrol. And I'll wear it when we come back so nobody will see I was with you! All good?"

"All good," Hermione nodded, and Ginny stood, waved and left her alone again, feeling a hundred times better than she had before the youngest Weasley sat down with her. She and Ginny were friends again, and she was getting caught up on her studying! What could be better than that?

=ooo=

Severus Snape moved quickly and silently along the still-darkened halls of Hogwarts, his destination very different from where he'd told Dumbledore he was headed, at least for the moment. He was no longer bound by the Unbreakable Vow, so the promises he'd made to Narcissa Malfoy weren't binding on him anymore , but it would be prudent to keep up the appearance, on the off-chance that he would be able to restore his humanity during the attack on Malfoy Manor. As far as he knew, whether or not he would be able to accomplish that was unknown; it would depend on the circumstances of the battle. He would not, however, lose hope. Hope was in precious small supply these days for Severus Snape.

Reaching his destination he spoke the password he had set only days earlier on the Slytherin common room entrance. The door opened, allowing him entrance, and he moved swiftly to the private room occupied by Draco Malfoy. He knocked on the door, listening carefully for any sound from within, then frowned. He did not hear even a heartbeat from within the room — where could Draco be at this time of the morning? Snape did not believe he would be spending time with one of the female Slytherin; the boy had been obsessed with the unknown task the Dark Lord had set him, and this late in the year, if he had not yet succeeded, he would be worried about more than satisfying his base urges, if indeed his predicament had even left him with any.

Snape moved to the adjacent door, where Crabbe and Goyle dormed together in a double room, as was the custom for Slytherins who had their own sets of "followers." This room, he could tell, was occupied; Snape clearly heard two sets of heartbeats. He knocked quietly on the door, hearing a grunt as one of Malfoy's minions (Goyle from the sound of it) rolled off his bed and staggered sleepily to the door.

"What the hell's your — oh, sorry, Professor," Goyle said, recognizing the Defense professor a moment too late. "Um, what can I do, uh, for you?"

"Do you know where Draco is?" Snape asked, curtly.

"Uh, isn't he asleep in his room?" Goyle asked sleepily.

"Would I be here asking you where he was if that were the case?" Snape growled, cuttingly. "Go wake Crabbe."

Moments later both Crabbe and Goyle were slouched in front of Snape, trying to wake up before they said something to their Head of House that they would regret. "I don't know where he is, Professor," Crabbe replied when asked the same inquiry Snape had made of Goyle. "He didn't say anything to us about going anywhere."

"And what of the project he's been working on?" Snape pressed. He caught a quick glance between the two boys — they had tried to avoid it, but he was watching closely. "Yes, I know he's been working on something in the Room of Lost Things, up on the seventh floor. You two have been guarding the entrance for him using Polyjuice Potion to disguise yourselves. Did you think I, your Head of House, would be unaware of these things?"

"Uh —" Crabbe began.

"Don't bother lying," Snape cut him off. "Simply tell me what you know. Be aware that your duty is to protect Draco — you will not accomplish that by covering up for him, especially to me."

"But we don't know what he's doing!" Crabbe replied pleadingly. "He won't tell us anything! We're just supposed to stand in front of the door to the Room, and if anyone comes by we're supposed to drop whatever we're holding as a warning!"

Snape sighed in exasperation. Draco apparently trusted no one with what he was doing for the Dark Lord. His protectors didn't know, even his own mother knew only that he'd been told to eliminate Dumbledore before the end of this school year, of course unaware that Dumbledore was already dying from the effects of a curse on the ring the Headmaster had found in the ruins of the Gaunt hovel.

"I need to know anything he might have said that could pertain to what he's trying to do," Snape told the two Slytherins. "Try to think of anything unusual he's said recently."

Both boys shrugged. "I don't know," Goyle replied. "He doesn't say much to us these days except to order us around, and he's not even doing much of that lately. He seems awfully distracted."

"Oh, you think?" Crabbe sneered, slapping Goyle on the arm. "He knows that already!"

"Well _you_ come up with something!" Goyle retorted loudly.

"I dunno," Crabbe replied. "I can't think too good on an empty stomach."

"You two are hopeless," Snape muttered. "I'll speak to both of you again after breakfast. Come down to my personal storage area and knock on the door, and I will be with you momentarily." The Defense Professor turned away.

"Oh, wait!" Goyle suddenly said. "Draco did say something weird at dinner last night — I just thought of it."

"Splendid," Snape replied sarcastically. "And it was…"

"Uh, Draco said that with any luck tonight he'd show Borgin what he was capable of," Goyle recalled. "But I can't think of anyone in our House named Borgin."

"You arse," Crabbe sneered. "He's that old goat who runs that store in Knockturn Alley — you know, the one Draco is always saying his father gets a cut of the profit because he loaned the guy a bunch of money not long ago."

_Borgin_, Snape thought as he listened to the two boys argue. There'd been a rumor last year that Draco visited the shop a few weeks before the school year began; it could be that he was exerting some form of influence over the shopkeeper. It would bear looking into.

But Snape had other places to be shortly, least of all outside in daylight. "Listen to me," he told them. "Draco may be at Borgin and Burkes. I want you two to go there and find him, if so. Tell him he needs to go to his home and get his mother and anyone else he wants protected out of there."

"What's going on —"

"That is not your concern," Snape override any questions. "You are supposed to protect Draco — this will protect him and his family. I'm sure his father will be grateful," he added, appealing to their greed — and to their fear.

Snape drew two objects from his robes. They were Portkeys he'd enchanted before taking the potion that had made him a vampire. "Take this." He handed Crabbe a silver potions dagger. "This will transport you to the entrance of Knockturn Alley," he told them. "While you both hold it, tap it with your wand and say, 'Go.' Go to Borgin and Burkes and find Draco. Give him this." He handed Goyle an empty potion vial. "This will take him to the entrance of Malfoy Manor. It works the same way as the silver blade. Tell Draco to get his mother and everyone else he values out of the manor. Tap the object with your wand and say the activation word again to bring you back to where you left from. You will have to go outside the entrance of Hogwarts so none of the staff will know a Portkey was activated on the grounds. Use _Claudo Patescum_ on the gate locks to open them."

"But what if we get caught?" Crabbe protested. "What if Filch —"

"Silence," Snape said, curtly, then drew a piece of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill from his robes. Leaning over the bedside table, he scribbled a hasty permission note. "If anyone stops you show them this," he said, handing it to Crabbe. "They will know I wrote it."

"But —"

"You are arguing with me when you should be dressing and hurrying to find Draco," Snape reminded them, his tone dangerous. He was losing patience with these young idiots. "Do not fail or your weekends for the rest of your time at Hogwarts will be spent in detention. I'm sure you remember how… _interesting_… my detentions can be."

Both Crabbe and Goyle gulped; they remembered.

"Go," said Snape.

They went.

Snape left the Slytherin dorms, heading for the dark quietude of his ingredients storeroom. He _would_ need to take his rest before tonight if he was to accomplish what Dumbledore asked of him. And then, after the headmaster's death within a few months, a grateful Ministry would see fit to make _him_ the Headmaster. The man who killed the Dark Lord Voldemort.

=ooo=

Harry and Ron landed nearly a mile from the front gates of Malfoy Manor, to prevent being spotted should anyone happen to be watching the skies before dawn. They approached in stealth, moving silently between copses of trees that dotted the landscape surrounding the manor and the country lane that passed by it. The lane connected two towns, both several miles from the manor itself, and Harry suspected that any Muggle who happened to pass by did _not_ see the intricately wrought iron gates or heard the cries of the albino peacocks the Malfoys kept; like Hogwarts, they would only see a dark, foreboding ruin, accompanied by a feeling of dread that would prevent them from trying to explore.

Upon closer approach, the high hedge around most of the grounds prevented direct observation, or would have if Harry and Ron had been unable to climb nearby tress to look over them and into the manor itself. This early in the morning there were few lights on inside, but both of them could sense movement and the sound of heartbeats within. The scent of blood was in the air as well; someone had nicked or scratched themselves, but even that slight wound was enough to bring the sweet aroma of pulsing life to their noses. "Merlin, that smells good," Ron muttered, almost to himself.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But we can't let it distract us. How many heartbeats do you hear?"

Ron concentrated a moment. "Quite a few he said, it's hard to sort them out. I dunno, maybe 50 or so?"

"Something like that," Harry agreed. "I lost count around 44, but there can't be many more than that. Any idea where Voldemort would be in there?"

"No," Ron said, a little testily. "You've dealt with the bloke a lot more than I have, Harry — you ought to be able to guess better than me!"

"Just asking," Harry muttered. "He'd probably use one of the largest rooms in there, if he was gathering all of his Death Eaters together. I wonder how many rooms in this house could hold 50 people?"

"All of them, probably," Ron sniggered. "Malfoys, you know. Super-rich."

"That's not helping," Harry snapped.

"Ooo, sorry," Ron said, his manner suggesting otherwise. "It seems easy enough, though: we go in one of the upper floors, find someone we can mesmerize and question on You-Know-Who's location, then sneak down and take him by surprise. You give him the old evil eye and have him order his Death Eaters to leave him alone for a while. Then we'll find out where his Horcruxes are and go after them. That _was_ the plan, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, but he was shaking his head. "I can usually tell when I'm close to Voldemort — my scar starts hurting real bad, but I haven't felt it at all since I became a vampire."

"Huh," Ron grunted. "What d'you that means?"

"I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Maybe that Voldemort can't get into my head anymore, like he did last year."

"So you don't know if he's in there or not?" Ron asked, pointing at the manor.

"No. I don't feel him anywhere around."

"Well, crap!" Ron looked pissed off. "So we _are_ gonna have to capture one of the servants and make him talk."

"A minute ago you _wanted_ to do that!" Harry pointed out.

"I _wanted_ a quick way in and out of this place!" Ron said, angry now.

"Well, what d'you want me to _do_?" Harry asked, exasperated now himself. "I don't know if he's in there!"

"You know what we need," Ron said, now matter-of-fact. "We need like, X-ray vision or something neat like that — we could just see through the wall and know whether You-Know-Who's in there or not."

Harry looked at Ron, and after a long moment Ron shrugged, grinning. Harry chuckled as well, and the bad mood was broken.

"Well, since we don't have that," Harry suggested, "why don't we move to another tree and see what else we can sort out about this place."

For the next hour they moved from location to location, watching for inside lights going on or off — either someone casting a _Lumos_ spell or lighting and extinguishing candles or braziers. They could hear voices, too — snatches of conversation of men speaking in low voices: discussions about their moles in the Ministry and when the Dark Lord might move against it, and what duties they might be given there when they came to power.

Harry and Ron also got the impression that guarding Malfoy Manor was not as easy a job as it appeared — if the Dark Lord didn't like your performance you were likely to be Crucioed or even killed, depending on how badly you failed. Malfoy's wife Narcissa was also a topic of whispered discussion. Her husband was in Azkaban, and they wondered if she would enjoy another man's company if she got the chance. Most of the men discussing her were of the opinion she was frigid, that Malfoy would probably prefer to be rid of her and get himself a new, younger wife.

"Can't really see why _anyone_ would want her," Ron muttered after listening to one conversation. "I doubt she and Lucius even —"

"Let's drop it," Harry cut over him. He didn't like Narcissa either, but the woman did care for her son. Harry could feel the worry and desperation she felt, even from this distance from the manor. He knew Snape had made an Unbreakable Vow with her, though he didn't know the details — he wished now he'd looked for them in Snape's mind before the Defense professor became a vampire, it might have told him how much Snape knew about what Draco was doing in the Room of Requirement.

Ron looked apprehensively toward the east. "It'll be dawn soon," he commented, hoping Harry would take the hint and start looking for a place for them to sleep before daylight came.

"In a minute," Harry promised. He was trying to think how they would proceed when night fell again. It was one thing to discuss raiding Malfoy Manor while they sat around safe and secure in the Chamber of Secrets, but quite another when they were at the enemy's gates. And there were problems he could foresee, now that he'd had time to think on it.

"Do you think there'll be wards to detect intruders?" he asked suddenly.

The question put a frown on Ron's face. "They've got the Fidelius on the place," he said, reasonable. "Isn't that good enough? Why would you put anti-intrusion spells on a place only the people you want to come can do that?"

"Yeah…" Harry pondered. "I guess it depends on how paranoid Voldemort is." From his perspective Voldemort was _very_ paranoid.

"Hmm, yeah," Ron agreed, still thinking. "Hey, what d'you think would happen if you Polyjuiced yourself as a Death Eater, would you get the Dark Mark, too, just like them?"

"I suppose," Harry guessed, perplexed at the seeming irrelevance of Ron's question. But he added, "I don't know if it would work, though — you're supposed to be able to summon other Death Eaters by pressing on it. He did that using Wormtail's Dark Mark after he came back, in the graveyard in Little Hangleton. And where'd you come up with _that_ question, anyway?"

"Just wondering," Ron said, then looked to the east again. "Don't you think it's about time we found some place to —"

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled, and they both floated to the ground. They were standing at one edge of a dense copse of trees a dozen yards from the hedge that ran along the edge of the manor grounds. This was the nearest point to the manor itself, though Harry wondered how much more of Malfoy Manor was underneath the solid stone structure. It would be nice if there turned out to be a secret entrance in and out of the place, just like the tunnel that led from the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor of Hogwarts to the cellar at Honeydukes, in Hogsmeade.

A light went on in Harry's head then. Why _wouldn't_ there be one — wasn't that the sort of thing someone like Lucius Malfoy would have in place, an escape route should he be cornered in his home by Aurors?

But where would the exit be? Harry suddenly remembered seeing a dilapidated stone shed, its door boarded shut, sitting behind a small grove of trees not far from the lane that passed by the hedge bordering the manor. Harry had thought it was just an abandoned structure and hadn't given it another thought until now.

"I just thought of something," he said, and moved quickly toward where he'd seen the shed, his feet barely touching the ground as he ran. Ron sprinted after him, and moments later they were standing in front of the shabby stone structure.

Ron wasn't impressed. "Looks like an old outhouse," he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought. Did Harry expect them to spend the day in _there_? "I've already had to sleep in cold dirt, I'm not going to sleep in _crap_ —"

"No, Ron, don't you get it?" Harry said excitedly. "This may be a secret entrance into Malfoy Manor!"

"How d'you know _that_?" Ron demanded.

"Well, I don't," Harry admitted, "but it makes sense if you think about it. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't leave himself with no escape route from his own home."

"But how do we know _this_ is that escape route?" Ron persisted.

"One way to find out," Harry said. He reached up, grasped the top plank of the boarded-over door and pulled. "Help me," he said to Ron after a moment, "it's probably been fastened with magic." Ron began pulling as well, and after several seconds of pulling the plank wrenched free. They pulled the other boards off, leaving a heavy wooden door. Harry pulled on the handle.

The door was locked. "Sure could use a wand right about now," Ron muttered. Harry ignored him. He looked around for something he could use as a pick, then snatched up one of the planks they'd just pulled off the shed. There were nails in the plank, and Harry used his vampiric strength to pull one of them free. Then, taking a tip from Fred and George, he bent down and began picking open the lock, using his vampiric hearing to move the lock tumblers into their "unlocked" position. Two minutes later he stood and pulled open the door, smiling smugly at Ron.

"Brilliant," Ron said, with a touch of irony. "Course, I could've done the same thing, mate."

"You can do the next one, then," Harry grinned, and they both entered the shed.

It did indeed have the appearance of an old, abandoned outhouse, though the smells Ron had anticipated weren't present; there were spells to prevent them anyway, even if the shed had been used as such, which Harry doubted. It was most likely set up to appear like an outhouse. What was funny, he thought, was that a pure-blood wizard would never have thought how incongruous a stone outhouse would appear to Muggles passing by. Muggle outhouses had normally been constructed of wood, not stone. But since there were likely Muggle-repelling charms on the shed as well, that didn't matter much.

Along the back part of the shed was a stone slab with two round holes in it. Several tattered wizarding periodicals on pure-blood living were strewn across it. Harry peered into the holes, earning a look of disgust from Ron, but he stood up again and said, "I can't see anything, these holes go too far down to see what's at the bottom. I think this is the end of Malfoy's escape tunnel from Malfoy Manor!" His eyes roamed around the rest of the interior. "Look," he pointed. "A key." He took a large iron key off a hook near the door and inserted it in the lock. The key fit perfectly.

"We can lock the door from the inside," Harry said, "then make sure no light can get in during the daytime. We can sleep in here today, then see where this tunnel leads when it gets dark."

"What if someone tries to get in during the day?" Ron worried. "Or you're right about that tunnel, and some Death Eaters come up out of that hole?"

"We'll wake up if that happens," Harry replied. "It happened to me, remember — when Fang tried to dig me up, I woke up as he got near to where I was sleeping."

Ron didn't look too happy, but he nodded agreement. "I guess so." He looked around the shed. "So how do we make this dump light-proof?"

Harry picked a magazine off the stone bench titled _The Pure Life_. "We can use these," he said. "We're getting just enough moonlight to see — when we plug up all the holes it should be pitch-dark in here."

They set to work, jamming crumpled-up pages from the magazines into any miniscule cracks between the stone slabs they could see, until the interior of the shed was barely visible to them. Interestingly, both Harry and Ron noticed that, as the light diminished, they still seemed able to move easily about the small enclosure using the sounds they made as they moved, almost as if they could see, somehow, using the echoes off the walls.

"I think that's got it," Harry said at last, finally unable to make out any other cracks or openings. "And just in time — I can feel dawn coming on."

"Me, too," Ron said, sleepily. He grimaced as he looked at the rude stone floor. "Not a very comfortable looking bed, mind you."

"We could always go back outside and dig a hole," Harry retorted.

"No, that's okay," Ron averred. He laid down on the stone floor. "I'll see you tonight, Harry," he said, then closed his eyes and was still.

"G'nite, Ron," Harry muttered. "Or I guess," he smirked, "good day," Ron smiled, and Harry stretched out next to him.

_This was it_, he thought, _tonight we're taking on Voldemort himself_! The dreamless sleep of the vampire enfolded him, and the shed was quiet once again.

=ooo=

The pale reddish light of dawn was just becoming visible over the modest skyline of Diagon Alley when with a swirl of color and wind two young wizards appeared at the Alley's most notorious intersection.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle landed lightly on their feet, being used to Portkeys as they were the preferred Malfoy method for private long-distance travel, being less discomfiting than Apparition and more dignified than broom or Floo.

"Yeah, right on target," Crabbe grunted in his soft voice, seeing they were directly in front of the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

"Ergh," Goyle gulped, holding his middle. "Wish we'd gone before eating breakfast, though — that trip upset my stomach."

"Toldja to wait," Crabbe said unsympathetically.

"You ate, too!" Goyle retorted accusingly. "How come you ain't hurting?"

"I didn't stuff myself like you did," Crabbe replied. "Come on, let's go find Draco."

They made their way down Knockturn Alley, past the few denizens that were out early: a shabbily dressed witch with an eyepatch and stubbly chin, a hung-over dwarf stretched out in a shop doorway, and two old wizards who eyed them as they passed; only their large size helped to deter anyone from accosting them.

They finally came upon Borgin and Burkes, a large shopfront with the biggest sign in this part of the alley. Crabbe peered through a window but it was still too dark to see inside. The front door, of course, was locked, but that didn't seem to discourage Crabbe. He took out his wand and pointed it at the door.

"_Foris Patescum_!" he muttered, and there was an audible _click_ as the door unlocked. The two Slytherins entered slowly, wands still at the ready.

Goyle closed the door behind them, then raised his wand and whispered "_Lumos_!" The shop filled with light, and Crabbe shook his head at what he saw: Draco and Borgin, both slumped in chairs in front of a broken cabinet, asleep.

Crabbe went over to Draco and shook him by the shoulder. "Wake up, boss," he muttered urgently. "Wake up!" When Draco didn't stir he looked back at Goyle. "I think somethin's wrong with him — he may have been drugged or Stunned."

"Better wake him up, then," Goyle suggested. "Maybe he can tell us what happened."

Crabbe pointed his wand at Draco's chest and said "_Rennervate_!" Draco stirred, groaning, and Crabbe shook his shoulder again. "Wake up, boss!"

"What's —" Draco looked up, seeing Crabbe and Goyle and beyond them, the broken Vanishing Cabinet. "Oh, shit. What the hell did I do?"

"What's going on?" Goyle asked. "What are you doing here at Borgin and Burkes?"

Draco stood, then nearly fell as his legs buckled. Crabbe steadied him, but he stepped back as soon as he got his balance again. Old man Borgin was sprawled in a chair sleeping, he saw. "How did you get here?" he asked, ignoring Goyle's question.

"Snape gave us a Portkey," Crabbe said, holding up the silver dagger. "He gave us one for you, too." Goyle produced the empty vial. "You're supposed to use it to go home and get your mum and anybody else you want to safety."

"Safety?" Draco said sharply. "What's going on?"

"He wouldn't tell us nothin'," Crabbe said, shrugging. "He just said for you to go to your house and get anyone you wanted safe out of there." Goyle held out the vial toward him.

Draco didn't take it. What was Snape up to? "When did he give you these Portkeys?" he asked instead.

"Earlier this morning," Crabbe said. "We was still asleep. He knocked on our door after trying yours. Told us to come here and find you."

"How did he know I was here?" Draco demanded, glaring at his two minions. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing, boss!" Crabbe insisted. "We didn't know where you was! Maybe he used that Legi—whatever on us, that thing you said he could do when he looks you in the eye."

Draco nodded. Snape was notorious for that among the upper years, it was something to watch out for if you had anything to hide from him. Draco had learned Occlumency from his Aunt Bella the summer before his sixth year, but Crabbe and Goyle hadn't been trained yet — that was why Draco tended to keep them out of the loop with what he was doing this year.

"Maybe," he muttered. He had to think, really _think_, about what he wanted to do next. Blindly obeying Snape wasn't something Draco had done in a long time, he wasn't going to do it now, even to save his mother. She was safe enough at Malfoy Manor, and even if the entire Auror Department raided the place she had a way out.

"Come on," he decided, taking the dagger from Crabbe's hand. "We're going back."

"To your house?" Crabbe asked. "It's the other Portkey —"

"No," Draco shook his head. "Not to Malfoy Manor. We're going back to Hogwarts. I want to talk to Snape and find out what's going on.

"He ain't gonna tell you anything," Crabbe protested. "He wouldn't tell _us_ anything!"

"Oh, he'll tell _me_," Draco said, grimly. "As long as I tell him what he wants to hear. Now activate this thing." He held out the silver dagger.

Crabbe and Goyle both touched the dagger, and Crabbe tapped it with his wand. "Go," he said. The Portkey flashed blue and a whirl of colors caught them as they vanished from the shop and Knockturn Alley.

**A/N: Please consider reviewing, I'd like some feedback on how the buildup to the big battle is going.**


	18. Mayhem Minus One

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

**Chapter Eighteen  
><strong>"**Mayhem Minus One"**

Updated October 6, 2012

=ooo=

The Portkey whirled around the three Slytherins in a howl of wind and spinning colors, dropping them at the same point where Crabbe and Goyle had left, a few yards outside the gates of Hogwarts. All three of them landed with practiced ease — they were quite used to this mode of travel, much more convenient and dignified than being dragged through sooty Floo grates and a lot more comfortable than Apparition.

Without a word Draco made for the school gates, and his two cohorts hastily followed him. "What time is it?" Draco asked, as they walked.

"It's a quarter after eight," Goyle said, consulting his watch. "Where we headed, Draco?"

"Snape's office," Draco muttered. "I need to find out what he knows."

"About what?" Crabbe asked.

"About what's going on at home, you idiot!" Draco snapped, glaring at Crabbe. "Why does he want me and Mother out of Malfoy Manor? I need to find out if there's something going on there and what Snape knows about it!"

Malfoy ran up the front steps of the castle and into the entrance hall. He started up the main staircase, heading for the Defense classroom but Crabbe called out, "The professor told us he'd be in his personal storage room this morning."

Draco stopped and came back down the stairs, frowning. "What's he doing in there?"

"He didn't tell _us_," Goyle shrugged. "What _would_ he be doing in there?"

Draco was thinking about that himself. "He sometimes brews potions there now, since Slughorn took over the Potions classroom. The question is, _what_ would he be brewing?"

Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, then shrugged. "Damifiknow," Crabbe said.

"I wasn't asking you," Draco snapped. "Come on." The three Slytherins entered the door to the left of the staircase, leading down to the lower levels of the castle.

=ooo=

Draco gave a snort of derision at the sign on the room where Snape kept his personal stores and other items.

* * *

><p>NO ADMITTANCE<br>UNAUTHORIZED STUDENTS  
>WILL BE CURSED<p>

By order of S. Snape

* * *

><p>"Do you think he means it?" Goyle asked, staring at the sign nervously.<p>

"What a self-important twit," Draco muttered. Snape was usually long on threats, but when it came right down to it, _everyone_ knew that Dumbledore would never let anything happen to the students in his school. Even the Slytherins.

Except…now… Draco knew the situation he was in was bad. If the Vanishing Cabinet at Borgin and Burkes was damaged beyond repair, he and his parents were done for — the Dark Lord would kill them all. Could Snape know about that already? If he did, he could hold that over Draco and his father, worsening their already strained relationship with the Dark Lord.

But no, Borgin was too afraid of what might happen if he went behind Draco's back. The threat of a visit from Fenrir Greyback was enough to keep the old fool in his place. He would need the Portkey Goyle held, by the way, to get back to Borgin's shop… Draco raised his hand to knock on the door. And held that pose, thinking.

…Borgin's shop…

Draco lowered his hand and looked at Goyle. "When Snape gave you that Portkey to Borgin's did he cast the spell on it right then?"

Goyle shrugged. "I dunno. I don't think so."

"Well, think harder," Draco snapped. "I need to know what he did. Did he cast it right then, or did he just give it to you?"

"I think he just gave it to us," Goyle said. Crabbe nodded agreement.

Draco cursed under his breath. If Snape was keeping a Portkey to Borgin's shop, he must already suspect some collusion between the oily shopkeeper and Draco. That wasn't good. Snape would remember that incident with Montague and the Vanishing Cabinet last year. If he knew about the Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin's shop, there was _no way_ he wouldn't see what Draco was planning.

But even if he did, Draco reminded himself, Snape had made the Unbreakable Vow with his mother, to help Draco in any way he could. That could be something he could use against Snape. Draco nodded, filled with new resolve. "Listen, you two," he said to Crabbe and Goyle. "I'll see you later."

"What?" Crabbe looked surprised. "You don't want us around?"

"No, I'll talk to Snape alone. You two go hang out in the common room. I'll find you later. And keep that Portkey to my home handy — we might want to use it later."

Crabbe and Goyle trudged off toward the Slytherin common room, leaving Draco alone at the door to Snape's private stores. Steeling himself for the unpleasantness he was about to go through, Draco reached up and rapped on the door. "Professor! It's Draco Malfoy!" There was no response.

Draco listened, but heard no movement inside the room. After a few seconds he reached inside his robes and produced an Extendable Ear. While Draco wouldn't be caught dead inside the Weasleys' joke shop, they had some items that had proved useful over the past year, like the Ears and Instant Darkness Powder. Draco had talked a couple of fourth-year Slytherins to go in and buy him some of the more interesting items he'd seen in a Weasley catalog someone had left lying about the Great Hall at the beginning of the school year. Draco put the listening end in his ear and whispered, "Go," to send the Ear under the door.

He still couldn't hear anything, though. The instructions said the Ears couldn't hear anything if the door had been made Imperturbable. He was starting to wonder if Snape was even in the room when the door suddenly flew open.

Even in the gloom Draco could see how pale the Defense professor looked, much paler than even his normally sallow complexion. He started guiltily, yanking the Ears back into his hand, then glowered at Snape. "What are you doing in there?"

"What do you want, Draco?" Snape asked, his voice dangerous. His eyes, Draco saw, were still sharp and clear. "I am engaged in an important experiment and do not have time to waste talking to you."

"Right," Draco said, not believing him. "Why did you send Crabbe and Goyle after me?" He leaned forward, trying to see into the room, to find out what Snape was really up to.

Snape moved forward, preventing Draco from seeing past him. They were nearly nose-to-nose. "As I explained to those two dunderheads of yours, you should remove anyone from Malfoy Manor whom you want to keep safe. Were they unable to explain that to you?"

"Let me in," Draco demanded, ignoring the question. "I don't want anyone to overhear us."

"Then lower your voice," Snape hissed, but after a moment he stepped back and Draco ducked inside the room. It was so dim in here he could barely see, but he could still smell, and this room was a cacophony of smells — foul stenches mixing with sickly sweet aromas and pungent odors. It was nearly overpowering.

But Draco wasn't here to smell the roses. "Crabbe and Goyle couldn't tell me why you wanted me to get my mother to safety," he rasped, breathing through his mouth. "Before I do anything I want to know _why_. What are you planning?"

"I am planning nothing," Snape replied, in that arrogant, smug tone that Draco hated so much now. "But I suspect the Headmaster. He has told me he is traveling to the Ministry tonight, for what reason he would not share with me."

"He'll be gone _tonight_?" Draco said, in a shocked tone. _Too soon_! Draco thought, frantically. He would have to —

Draco clamped his thoughts down, putting up his Occlumency shields before, he hoped, Snape could read his thoughts. But his Head of House did not seem to react to his slip — Draco might have saved his secret from detection.

"Draco," Snape said, in a strangely patient manner. "I have given you advance information in the hope that you will use it wisely. I cannot help you if you choose to ignore me, but you do so at your family's peril."

"But what about —" Snape's hand shot up, silencing him.

"I have informed _him_ of the plan," he resumed, his voice still unnaturally patient. "We will be awaiting the arrival of whatever force comes to your home this evening after dark. It would be best if you and your mother left Malfoy Manor before then. We will deal with the situation."

Even in the dimness of Snape's storeroom, the Defense professor's sallow face seemed to gleam unnaturally bright. And while Draco could keep Snape's Legilimency at bay, he was no Legilimens himself; he had no way to verify what Snape had told him but to trust him, and Draco was not that naïve.

"Fine," Draco said, making his Occlumency shields as rigid as possible, and projecting cautious trust. "I've got some things to do before I leave, but I'll go make sure Mother is safely out of the house before tonight. We can stay at the Greengrasses estate — Mother and Lady Greengrass can tolerate each other enough for a few nights."

It was plausible enough, Draco knew. And the professor seemed to accept it; he nodded curtly. "Now, if you'll excuse me," Snape swept Draco toward the door. "Be sure to get your mother and anyone else out before nightfall." Then Draco was outside the door. It shut heavily behind him.

Draco looked back at the closed door, scowling. He would be traveling back home before evening fell tonight, but not to do the Defense professor's bidding. Draco stalked off toward the Slytherin common room to begin his plans for that day.

=ooo=

Hermione finally caught up with Ginny at lunch, anxious to tell her the good news. She sat down next to the youngest Weasley and glanced around carefully, making sure no one was listening. There weren't many students in the Great Hall right now, it being not long before the first classes of the afternoon. Even the High Table was nearly deserted as most of the teachers were probably preparing for their upcoming classes. "I've got things fixed up with Professor McGonagall for tonight," she murmured in a low voice.

Ginny stopped eating the last few bites of her chicken and salad to stare bemusedly at Hermione. "You told McGonagall? I thought we were using the Invisibility Cloak tonight?"

"We are," Hermione quickly agreed. "I asked the professor what she thought about me going on patrol with someone other than Dean."

Ginny raised an eyebrow at that. "Didn't she want to know why you didn't want to patrol with Dean?"

Hermione smiled smugly. "Oh, yes, she did. And I told her that Dean's been a bit distracted lately and hasn't had much time for evening patrols. She said she'd have a talk with him."

Ginny smiled. "That was evil of you. Good job!"

"I also talked with Parvati," Hermione went on. "She's interested in taking over the prefect job if Dean doesn't want it any more. Professor McGonagall, Dean and I have a meeting before dinner tonight to discuss whether he'll continue as a prefect or not."

Ginny was pushing the lettuce and tomatoes in her salad around the bowl as she listened. "Do you think Dean will want to keep on being a prefect?"

At that moment Dean passed by the Gryffindor table in front of them, and he threw Hermione a smoking glare before throwing himself down at the table some distance away, next to Seamus, who had just sat down himself. They conferred a moment, then both Dean and Seamus glared down at the table at Hermione before they hurriedly began throwing food onto their plates before the lunch period was over.

Hermione glanced back at Ginny. "I don't think so," she said, beaming. "He seemed a bit upset when I gave him the note from McGonagall just before coming down for lunch."

Ginny smothered a laugh, covering her mouth to keep bits of salad and chicken from spewing all over the table. "He looks right pissed, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but it's for the best," Hermione said earnestly. "Evening patrols are important these days and they have to be taken seriously."

"Serves him right," Ginny added vindictively, still upset about breaking up with him. Dean was fun to be around, but he could be so — so self-important sometimes. And bossy. With Ginny those traits just didn't fly. "We're still on, though, right?"

"Right," Hermione nodded. "I'll suggest Parvati begin prefect patrol with me tomorrow night, if McGonagall agrees to replace Dean with her, and since it's already cleared that with Parvati McGonagall should agree right off to replace Dean with her."

"But what if Dean _doesn't_ want to give up being prefect?" Ginny worried. "Being a prefect gives him a lot of prestige with girls — he might not want to lose that."

"I'll point out that we'll have a pretty full patrol schedule for the rest of the year," Hermione said. "Sixth year doesn't have O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s so we'll be pretty busy while the fifth and seventh years get ready for their tests. I don't think he'll want to give up his lady-time to patrol with me now, especially since he knows I'm not particularly interested in him."

Ginny saw one other potential flaw in the plan. "Then what about tonight? Will McGonagall let you patrol alone?"

"No, but I'll tell her I can get one of the other prefects to go with me, since I have the first patrol tonight. She'll believe me," Hermione beamed at the flawlessness of her plan.

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," Ginny said, and took a final bite of chicken and salad from her plate. As she chewed, however, she pointed her fork toward the Slytherin table. "Look," she said. "Draco Malfoy seems to be pretty busy over there."

After what had happened with Malfoy Hermione could hardly stand to look at him anymore, but she couldn't tell Ginny anything about it without having to explain about Harry and Ron, so she glanced across the room to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was whispering intently with a number of the other Slytherin students. He looked agitated but was staying quiet — nothing of their conversation was reaching across the room. "He must have something pretty important to talk about," she mused, watching him move from group to group. "I wish we could hear what they're saying."

"Who says we can't?" Ginny asked. She reached in her robe pocket and pulled out an Extendable Ear, keeping it concealed from the others at the Gryffindor table. "Shall we have a listen?"

"Well, I don't know... it's not right, you know… oh, what the heck." Hermione leaned closer to Ginny and took one of the listening ends of the Ear. "Send it," she nodded to Ginny.

"Go," Ginny whispered, and the other end of the Ear snaked noiselessly across the room, underneath the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables and over to where Draco was now talking with Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.

"I don't see why you're trying to get us involved now," Zabini was sneering. "I thought this was _your_ little project, Draco — are you saying you can't handle things on your own?"

"I'm giving you a chance to show where your loyalties lie, Zabini," Dracro retorted. "If you don't want to be on his side, that's up to you. But you're not going to get a second chance later," he added, threateningly.

"Well, I'm in," Nott spoke up. "You do what you want, Zabini. I know who I think is going to come out on top."

"Good," Draco said. "We're meeting in the common room tonight at eight p.m. Be prepared to leave then — I have a way for us to get there quickly." He moved away from the two Slytherin, further down the table. At that moment Ginny gave the Extendable Ear a tug and it quickly retracted back to them.

"I wanted to hear what else he was going to say!" Hermione protested.

"We don't need to know anything else, do we?" Ginny told her. "Tonight at eight in the Slytherin common room. I think we should be down there then, don't you?"

Hermione was silent. If ever there was anyplace she'd rather _not_ be, it was near Draco Malfoy and a bunch of his friends when they were plotting to leave the school for some purpose, probably highly illegal. "We should probably let McGonagall know about this, actually," she protested.

Ginny looked nonplussed. "Are you joking?" she said at last, incredulous. "We've got Malfoy dead to rights! We can bring him and his friends to McGonagall afterwards — she'll be able to find out what they're up to."

"There may be too many of them," Hermione pointed out.

"So? Maybe we can get some of the D.A. members to go with us," she suggested. "They'd still have those fake Galleon coins we used to communicate with each other, wouldn't they?"

"As far as I know," Hermione nodded. She was beginning to warm to the plan. It would be foolish for her and Ginny to go down to the Slytherin common room alone, but if they could get a group of the old D.A. together, they might be able to stop whatever Malfoy was planning. And it would feel good, she added to herself, to get back at Malfoy for what he almost did to her.

"Let's do it," she nodded to Ginny, who grinned back in anticipation. "I'll go back to the common room and get my coin to send the message."

"When and where do you want to meet?" Ginny asked.

"At six tonight, I think," Hermione decided. "It'll give us a couple of hours to decide how to deal with Malfoy and the other Slytherins. As for where, that's easy — we'll meet in the Room of Requirement."

=ooo=

At that same moment, in the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Heads of House of the school save one were meeting with the Headmaster. "This is a huge undertaking, Albus," Minerva McGonagall told the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, giving him her sternest look. "You might have thought to give us more than a few hours' notice!"

"I apologize, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, sincerely. "The plans were only finalized earlier this morning. In any event, I do not mean for any of you to take an active role in the assault on Voldemort's headquarters — I am informing you of our plans only so you will be cognizant of our location later this evening."

Professor Flitwick leaned forward, looking almost disappointed. "Are you sure you don't need any help, Albus? I know I'm not a member of the Order —"

"You would make a fine addition, Filius," Dumbledore smiled. "Yet I would prefer that you and Pomona remain here with Minerva in order to protect the school should something unforeseen occur."

McGonagall gave him a sharp look. "What do you think could go wrong?"

Dumbledore smiled. "As I just intimated, Minerva, if it were not unforeseen I would have already planned for it. And you know how dearly I love to plan for the otherwise unexpected."

Minerva sighed at the Headmaster's circuitous logic. Professor Sprout, who had been silent since entering the Headmaster's office, spoke up now. "I see that Severus isn't here, Headmaster. Is he part of your plan as well?"

McGonagall glanced at her. "Undoubtedly. Professors Sinistra and Vector are covering his classes today, and I have not seen him for the past few days." She turned to Dumbledore. "Or have I read the signs incorrectly, Albus?"

"Not at all, Minerva," Dumbledore agreed. "Severus is indeed a part of the plan, and I have asked Aurora and Septima to take over his classes until he returns."

"Assuming he _does_ return," Flitwick murmured. "What you're planning is quite dangerous, Albus. Especially for _you_, considering…" The Charms Professor did not quite glance toward Dumbledore's withered right hand, which was currently out of view below his office desk.

"It has always been so, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, heavily. "We have all lived through dangerous times. And we have lost our share of friends and family in those times." McGonagall and the other Heads somberly nodded agreement. "Tonight will be the culmination of two years of planning and sacrifice, if we are successful. It will be dangerous, there is no question of that. But the reward is ultimately worth the risk, and the danger. And it will secure a better future for future generations of the Wizarding world. That is what makes it worth it."

"Well said!" Flitwick applauded, and McGonagall and Sprout were both bright-eyed with emotion.

Dumbledore inclined his head gratefully. When he looked up again his expression was once again cheerful; his blue eyes twinkled merrily. "Now, as it is nearly time for classes to resume, I hope you will all excuse me while I continue preparations for this evening."

The three Heads stood and filed out of the office and down the spiral staircase. McGonagall paused at the door to turn back to the Headmaster. "Good luck, Albus, I hope you know what you're doing."

"I always do, Minerva," Dumbledore replied, smiling, and the Transfiguration Professor allowed herself a small smile as well before she turned and walked down the stairs behind the other heads. The damnable thing about Dumbledore was, he always _did_ know.

=ooo=

Harry opened his eyes.

Even though it was still completely dark in the stone shed he could tell it was well before sundown; there was perhaps ten minutes or so until the sun would drop completely below the horizon.

He could also sense Ron lying right beside him, as still as death. They were about to make their way into Malfoy Manor, to find Voldemort and bend him to their will, forcing him to reveal the whereabouts of his remaining Horcruxes so they could be destroyed, then do the same to him as well. This was the same strategy that Dumbledore and Snape were planning, using Snape's influence with Voldemort to get him inside before anyone realized Snape was no longer a wizard but a vampire, created not by a Maker but by a potion of Snape's own concoction, a potion that somehow transformed him into a Master vampire in a single day, stronger than either him or Ron, whose own powers had grown rapidly during the months after they had become vamps, drinking unicorn blood and the blood of the Master vampire who had Made them, Baron von Necros.

"Ron," Harry whispered. "Wake up." Ron grunted, and Harry smiled thinly. Ron could be as hard to wake up as a vampire as he had been when he was a wizard! He said Ron's name again and the red-haired vampire opened one eye a fraction.

"It feels like I just closed my eyes," he complained. "Is it night again already?"

"Just about," Harry said. "Come on, get up." He tilted upward, straight-backed, until he was standing. "We've got to get inside Malfoy Manor and start looking for Voldemort before Snape gets here."

A moment later Ron was upright as well, though he stretched his arms sleepily, like a human who'd just awakened from a sound slumber. "I don't know about you, Harry, but I could use a bite before we go in there." Ron chuckled at his little joke.

"You're going to get the chance to bite a few necks while we're inside," Harry pointed out. "We're going to have to control whatever Death Eaters we come across, and that's the best way to do it."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Death Eater blood, mmmm." He rubbed his stomach as if anticipating dinner, though his expression was one of disgust. "I think I'd rather drink rat blood."

"If we come across Peter Pettigrew you've got dibs, then," Harry retorted. He pointed at the stone bench at the back of the shed. "Help me lift this, there should be a tunnel under there leading into the manor."

The stone slab weighed several hundred pounds but with vampiric strength it came off its base easily. Harry and Ron both stared down into the gloom. "It seems to go down a long way," Harry said, listening to the echoes his voice made as he spoke. "There's no ladder — I wonder how they would have made it up here from below?"

"I guess we'll find out when we get down there," Ron said. "I just hope nobody used this for a bog." He stepped onto the base, then jumped off into the darkness.

And hung there, suspended in mid-air. "Huh, that's weird," Ron muttered. "I'm not holding myself here," he said to Harry. Harry stepped off the base and found himself hovering in the air as well. He tried flying downward, but something was pushing him back upward.

"There must be a spell of some sort forcing us upward," he speculated. "This may be an escape route only, with that spell keeping you from entering down this hole."

"So how're we getting down there, then?" Ron asked. Harry didn't answer, but he concentrated a moment and began moving downward.

"It's like flying into a wind, but I think we can do it," Harry said. Ron began concentrating too and the two vampires slowly descended into the tunnel.

They reached bottom a few minutes later and when they stepped from the upward shaft into a horizontal tunnel joining it the upward pressure ceased. The walls of this tunnel glowed a faint green, and they could see it had been constructed, not dug, with even stone walls and a smooth floor. The ceiling was even slightly arched. They began moving quickly and silently along the tunnel.

"Nothing but the best for the Malfoys," Harry muttered, looking around. "Even their escape tunnels are the finest quality."

"Smell that?" Ron asked, giving Harry a nudge. "Blood."

Harry could smell it, too, and hear the beats of the hearts that pumped it as well. "Remember," he warned Ron. "No killing, especially not now, if we can help it. If we can catch Death Eaters in groups of one or two, we can take some of their blood and force them to obey us. If we get lucky, we'll find Voldemort straightaway and put him under our control, then figure out how to get him to take us to his Horcruxes."

"Right," Ron said. "I wonder how many are left."

"I destroyed the diary before I even knew what a Horcrux was," Harry replied. "Dumbledore destroyed the ring, so if Voldemort split his soul seven ways, like he asked Slughorn about doing, there should be four more."

"Seven minus two is five, Harry," Ron pointed out.

"No, Voldemort himself would count as one," Harry disagreed. "So he created six Horcruxes."

"Oh, right." Ron shrugged. "Well, whatever."

They stopped as the tunnel came to a sudden dead end against a stone wall composed of large, rounded bricks. Harry put a hand against the wall and listened carefully. There were no nearby heartbeats. "Help me get a couple of these bricks out of the wall," he whispered to Ron.

The two young vampires pulled four bricks from the wall, then crawled through the opening. They found themselves in a small storage room with several chests stacked in them, alongside stacks of wooden boxes. Most of the chests had padlocks but they were no match for vampiric strength; Harry broke one lock and opened the chest, finding it full of Galleons.

Ron pulled a case out of one of the boxes, opening it and finding an array of wands inside. He showed it to Harry, who nodded.

"Things they'd need if they had to flee the manor," he said. "Gold, wands. The other boxes are probably filled with other stuff like that."

There was a heavy, iron-shod door in the wall opposite the one they'd crawled through. Harry moved toward it, listening carefully for any movement outside. Again he heard nothing nearby. He opened the door, looking out into the corridor beyond. This corridor was lighted with braziers set a dozen yards apart or so. Harry was about to move into the corridor when a small movement caught his attention. It was a small rat, scurrying along the corridor wall toward him. A rat, Harry saw, that had a silver paw.

As it came near the door Harry reached down and scooped it up. The rat squealed and began thrashing in his grip, trying to bite him, but Harry slipped back into the room and closed the door. Ron drew closer, glaring at the rat with a malevolent stare. "Is that the little rat bastard I think it is?"

"Yeah, it's him," Harry said, darkly. "Stop biting, Peter," he told the rat. "Or I'll start breaking legs." The rat stopped squirming. "Turn human so you can talk to us," Harry said. The rat's head nodded and one paw gestured toward the floor. "Don't try to run," Harry warned him. "You won't get far this time."

He set the rat on the floor and watched as it flowed and took the shape of a small, furtive-looking man with graying hair that covered only the sides of his head; the hair on top had fallen out. He regarded them with watery eyes that were now wide with fear. "Ron! Harry!" he said, his squeaking voice filled with false cheer. "They told us you were dead! I'm so pleased to see it isn't true!"

"You can stop all that rubbish," Ron snarled at him. "Traitor! You're the reason Voldemort's back!"

Pettigrew had winced at Ron's use of The Name. "I couldn't help it, boys," he said pleadingly. "I was in his power!"

"Right," Harry said, then took hold of Pettigrew's left arm and tore the sleeve of his arm up to his shoulder, revealing the Dark Mark on his forearm. "You _are_ in his power, aren't you? You took the Mark. Well now you're in our power."

"D-don't kill me," Pettigrew pleaded abjectly, falling to his knees before Harry. "I'll d-do whatever you ask!"

"Too right you will," Ron said, lifting the man by his collar to his feet again. "You or me, Harry?"

"I said you had dibs," Harry answered, and Ron nodded then sank his fangs into Pettigrew's neck. Peter began to scream but only a squeak emerged from his mouth before he froze in terror. After a few mouthfuls Ron pushed him away.

"Now listen up," Ron said. "You know where Voldemort is in this place?"

Pettigrew winced again but nodded. "The Dark Lord is in the drawing room, upstairs," he said, dully, his watery eyes now showing no emotion.

"You're going to take us to him," Harry said. "But we need to see him alone."

Pettigrew shook his head. "Someone is always outside, even when the Master wishes to be alone."

"What does he do in there?" Ron demanded.

"He is planning the overthrow of the Ministry," Peter said. "We will soon be in control of the government of magical Britain."

"We'll see about that," Harry growled. "Here's what you're going to do, Wormtail…"

=ooo=

"This is bad, really bad, isn't it?" Neville Longbottom said anxiously, looking at Hermione. She nodded silent agreement.

"How many Slytherins do you think Malfoy's got on his side?" Neville asked, looking around the Room of Requirement at the few others of Dumbledore's Army who had answered Hermione's call to arms.

Not many had responded to Hermione's call to the D.A. Luna was there as was Cho Chang, from Ravenclaw. Padma Patil had come with her sister Parvati. Seamus Finnigan, also from Gryffindor like Parvati, had come with her. And, standing in the back of the group, was Dean Thomas, glancing furtively at Ginny every so often. Ginny, whose eyes were on Hermione, didn't look back.

"It was hard to tell," Hermione said. "Ginny and I watched him talk to several Slytherins, but we only overheard one agree to show up. With any luck, there won't be any more than a half-dozen with him."

That would give them equal forces, as the D.A. currently numbered seven as well. "We had a lot more members than this," Neville pointed out. "Where are _they_?"

"We didn't keep up with the D.A. this year, Neville," Hermione reminded him. "Everyone else probably moved on to other things."

"And," Cho Chang spoke hesitantly, "it was hard coming here after Harry — after Harry…" she couldn't finish her sentence. Ginny nodded at her, understanding.

"It is hard being here without Harry," Neville agreed. "But we can't let that stop us. I mean, we have to keep on going even without him."

"And without Ron," Ginny added, her voice barely a whisper.

"And without Ron," Neville echoed, looking at her.

Hermione wished she could tell the others about Harry and Ron, but it would take too much time to explain right now. They had other problems to deal with. "We've got less than two hours before Malfoy plans to leave Hogwarts with however many of the Slytherins he's gotten to leave with him. Fortunately, we have them at a disadvantage."

"How's that?" Seamus asked.

"They are meeting in the Slytherin common room. I heard Malfoy tell Theodore Nott they would meet there at eight and leave. But they won't be able to leave if we bar the way."

"Good point," Neville agreed. "There's only one way out of the dungeons, and that's through the Entrance Hall. We can keep them from leaving if we block off that way."

"That's going to be our plan," Hermione decided. "As soon as it becomes obvious the Slytherins are trying to get out of the school we can let the professors know, and maybe they can figure out what Malfoy is up to. Are we all agreed?"

Everyone nodded, raising their wands. Hermione raised hers as well. This would teach Malfoy to try and mess with her!


	19. Rumble at Malfoy Manor

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

**Chapter Nineteen  
><strong>"**Rumble at Malfoy Manor"**

Updated October 28, 2012

=ooo=

"It's nearly time," Malfoy said, checking a gold watch he produced from a hidden pocket. "We'll have just enough time to make it to the gates and arrive at sundown."

Malfoy surveyed the other Slytherin students gathered around him in their common room. Most of the students in his year had shown up. Nott was there, as promised, as was Tracey Davis, a witch who was friends with Daphne and Pansy, and Millicent Bulstrode. All four of them were chattering, almost oblivious to the plan Draco had been going over. Well, it wasn't his fault if they didn't make it through this — they had only themselves to blame for not listening to him. Crabbe and Goyle, it went without saying, were going where he went. Even Blaise Zabini had come, apparently deciding that he should show support for the Dark Lord like the others.

There were a few fifth years who'd wanted to get in on the action, and a seventh year who'd tried to bully his way into leading the group until Draco pointed out that _he_ was organizing this and he was therefore the logical leader. That Slytherin was now watching with an appraising eye as Draco tried to get things organized.

Organizing this group was more difficult to do than Draco had expected. It hadn't helped that he'd spent most of the school year isolated in the Room of Requirement trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet — a cabinet that was now useless to him as its counterpart in Borgin and Burkes was smashed beyond repair. At least most of the group had been in the Inquisitional Squad last year — they understood that a chain of command was necessary.

Unfortunately, most of them thought they were at the top of the chain, with Draco.

"All right, everyone," Draco called out. "Let's get going. We'll be heading out the front doors of the school to the main gates. If a teacher stops us along the way, we're just going for a stroll on the grounds before it gets dark."

"What if some Gryffindork prefect stops us?" Millicent Bulstrode asked, her jaw jutted forward in a nasty sneer.

"Same thing," Malfoy answered. "But nobody's keeping us from leaving. If anyone tries, stun them — afterwards it won't make any difference."

"Why not?" one of the seventh-years demanded. "You haven't said what this is all about, Malfoy — only that we have a chance here to show our loyalty to the Dark Lord. Maybe you better explain before we rush off without knowing what we're getting into."

Both Crabbe and Goyle were giving the seventh-year their scariest scowls, but before they could move Draco said, "Madley, it should be explanation enough that Professor Snape gave me a Portkey so I could help out with what's happening there tonight." Crabbe held up the vial that Snape had given him and Goyle. "Now if you don't want to help Professor Snape and the Dark Lord, you can just stay here."

"I didn't say I wouldn't help," Madley said, quickly. "I just want to know what we getting into!"

"You're going to get the chance to curse some wizards who are going to be attacking the Dark Lord any minute now!" Malfoy snapped, tired of having to explain himself any more. He actually couldn't say they were going to Malfoy Manor, or communicate it in any other way — the Fidelius on his home, cast by the Dark Lord himself, prevented that. In fact Draco wasn't even sure how he was going to get the other Slytherins into his house; only he, Crabbe and Goyle had been told the location. But that detail could wait until they were standing outside the manor gates.

"Are we ready now?!" he said, loudly, and there were nods from several in the group. The rest were just waiting to see what would happen next. "Let's go, then!" Malfoy pointed toward common room exit, then led the way, pushing aside the door and stepping into the stone corridor.

A half-dozen wands were pointed at him.

"Hello, Malfoy," Hermione Granger, standing in the lead of the students training their wands on him, said cheerfully. "Going somewhere?"

"As if it's any of your business, Mudblood," Malfoy sneered. There were angry murmurs behind her, and the wands pointing at him pressed forward. Malfoy began to rethink his strategy. "We're going outside for a bit. You got a problem with that?" he asked, challengingly.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Hermione said. "You must have missed the posting by Professor McGonagall on the House bulletin boards saying that curfew for all students had been changed to nine p.m., effective this week. It's only a few minutes before nine now — you won't even make it outside before it's time to come back in."

"That curfew doesn't apply to us!" Millicent Bulstrode shouted from behind Malfoy. "Only to the Gryffindorks and Hufflepods who need their baby sleep!" There were chuckles and some laughter from the other Slytherins, but Granger wasn't backing down.

"No, it's meant for everyone," Hermione said, matter-of-factly. "So you might as well turn around and go back in your common room, because you're not going anywhere tonight."

"Yeah?" Theodore Nott growled. "_You_ gonna stop us? You and what army?"

Hermione jerked a thumb at the group gathered behind her. "_That_ army."

=ooo=

Severus Snape appeared above a small country lane in Wiltshire and floated quickly to ground. The Portkey Dumbledore had created for him had brought him near Malfoy Manor, but far enough away that his presence wouldn't have tripped any wards. It wouldn't do if he'd suddenly appeared within the Dark Lord's magical detection; it was expected that he'd Apparate here on his own, and would arrive outside the Anti-Apparition Jinx surrounding the Malfoy home.

Snape looked around. Not far away was the hedge that surrounded the grounds of Malfoy Manor, and not far from the road was the old stone shed that was disguised as an abandoned outbuilding. Snape began walking down the lane toward a long drive, at the end of which were iron gates that guarded the entrance to the Malfoy estate.

There were others here of his kind; Snape could sense them. That did not worry him, he'd expected them to be here. Indeed, their presence was required if his plan was to succeed. Within moments he stood before the gates which, at his approach, began twisting and bending until a grim visage of wrought iron regarded him. "State your purpose," the guardian of Malfoy Manor intoned, its deep voice seeming to echo as it spoke.

"Severus Snape," Snape replied. "To see — a visitor at Malfoy Manor."

"You are not expected, Severus Snape," the guardian's voice rumbled. "State your purpose!"

"I bring news of the Ministry, news obtained from Professor Albus Dumbledore," Snape replied, calmly. "The — visitor — will wish to hear of it."

The gate was silent for long moments. Then the grim iron visage of the guardian began to unwind, to reshape itself back into the curls and furls of its normal shape as it swung aside to allow Snape to pass. The former Defense professor swept past it and up the drive, toward the front door that would just be visible to a human at this time of evening, at sunset.

He sensed humans, but they were scattered widely around the house, concentrated in the floors just above and below ground level, as if someone were expecting an attack from above or below, but not from the sides. The vampiric presences were ahead of him as well, but he did not smile at the thought that he had arranged it quite nicely that they were here, unknown to the Dark Lord and his men. No one would suspect they were lying in wait for his word for the killing to begin.

As he arrived at the front door, it swung open slowly though there was no one behind it to greet him, and Snape encountered his first problem: he could not enter without being invited, now that he was a vampire. He stood there for a moment, trying to imagine how to overcome this hurdle, when a tall, graceful figure was suddenly framed in the doorway, and Snape regarded her with a measure of surprise.

"What are you doing, Snape?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, eyeing him with some suspicion. "Why don't you come in?"

Snape relaxed. "I was mentally composing myself before talking to the Dark Lord," he told her. "Much has happened today and I must be ready to explain all when I see him." He stepped over the threshold into the house.

He had chosen to regard Narcissa's last words as an invitation rather than a question, an invitation that he accepted. Did her presence here mean that Draco had not come to take her away, or had he been here and she refused to leave? He could not ask her without arousing suspicion. "Is the Dark Lord accepting?" he asked. "I should speak to him as soon as possible."

"If he did not call you," Narcissa said coolly, "I would be wary of seeing him. He has remained secluded for days now, with only a handful of visitors."

Snape nodded. The Dark Lord's spies in the Ministry would have been reporting to him on their progress in fits and dribbles, whenever they could slip away during the day. At night Malfoy Manor was closed to all — Snape had only managed entry by being at the gate just before sunset. Only a Master vampire, one capable of moving about at the edges of daylight, could have done so.

Heedless of Narcissa's advice, he made his way to the entrance of the drawing room, where the Dark Lord spent the majority of his time in Malfoy Manor. At the door stood a single Death Eater, Yaxley, who eyed Snape suspiciously as he approached. "What are you doing here, Snape? The Dark Lord has not requested your presence."

"I have news from the Ministry," Snape answered. "The Dark Lord will be interested in what I have to say."

"What's the news?" Yaxley asked.

Snape shook his head. "It is for the Dark Lord's ears, first and foremost."

Yaxley scowled. "_I_ determine who will see the Dark Lord, Snape — that is why he chose me to guard the entrance to his room! Until he requests your presence, you shall not see him, and he has ordered that no one disturb him until he requests their presence. You may have a long wait."

"So be it," Snape replied, seemingly unperturbed. "I shall request a room from Lady Malfoy, then, and await the Dark Lord's request." He turned and walked away, knowing that Yaxley was now frustrated at not knowing something the Dark Lord would find useful. Snape had no doubt but that Yaxley would have passed off such information as his own, the first opportunity he had.

And that was Snape's intention. Yaxley would speak of that when he was relieved of his post, and soon almost everyone in the manor would hear of it, and begin plotting how they might be the one who delivered the news to the Dark Lord. And that would give Snape time to put his plan into motion.

He knew the location of every human in the manor, their heartbeats positioned them as exactly as if Snape had a map showing where each one was located. He moved upward through the manor with vampiric stealth, avoiding the Death Eaters stationed on every floor, until he was on the topmost floor of the house. From there he moved to a window, unlocking it and passing through, then up the side of the house to the roof.

The night had become windy and cold, as if in anticipation of the plan he was about to put into motion. He stood motionless, his mere presence broadcasting a beacon to those who would sense his presence here. It was not long before they arrived.

Three figures dropped into view from the clouds hanging low overhead. The settled silently on the roof in front of Snape: Count Vlad Drakul, his son Vlad Drakula Tepes, who also styled himself a count, though he was more notoriously known to history as Vlad the Impaler, and Baron Gilles de Rais, a child murderer; collectively, the three founders of the Grand Coven.

Snape bowed to the three Master vampires. "My lords," he said, not because of their presumed titles but because they demanded respect from all who looked upon them. "Your plan has been set in motion. The Dark Lord is here with most of his followers. A few are still in Azkaban but they will be freed after the Ministry is under the Dark Lord's control. The rest are at the Ministry or scattered around London and nearby towns."

"Excellent," Drakul said, who stood unperturbed even as the winds whipped his cloak around his tall, imposing form. "Were you able to make enough of the potion to turn these Death Eaters of Voldemort's into our followers?"

"I was not," Snape replied.

Drakul's cold black eyes narrowed in anger. "You were commanded to so so! We each gave you blood so that we would be their masters once they were Made! Explain your failure before I kill you!"

"I discovered the potion could not be adapted to turn anyone in a vampire without using their own blood as an ingredient as well," Snape replied, calmly, knowing that his life — and his plan — was forfeit if the Grand Coven's leader did not accept his explanation. "It was infeasible to obtain the blood of all 40 Death Eaters here at Malfoy Manor, so I created a single dose of potion for one person, myself, instead."

"That was not our agreement, Snape," Drakula said. "You have disobeyed the Grand Coven — the punishment is death."

"As you will," Snape replied, surprising the three Coven members. "I do not have the power to resist you." At least, not all three of them together. "But before you kill me, consider this: the Dark Lord has cast protections on this manor, protections that can harm even full vampires. You sent half-vampires to negotiate with the Dark Lord, but he trusts no one — he added protections to kill half-vampires should they enter this manor uninvited. Until I control the Dark Lord, you cannot enter Malfoy Manor at all; you will not be able to move against him."

"We can capture one of his followers," de Rais said. "We do not need _you_ to do that."

"But the Dark Lord will read the mind of that Death Eater and know he has been influenced," Snape objected. "He will be killed before he could do anything to the Dark Lord. And the Dark Lord would be alerted to your threat."

"Without turning his followers to our side, we have little chance of succeeding, Snape," Vlad Drakula pointing out. "You should have consulted us before changing the plan!"

"I considered that, but there was insufficient time once I determined there as no way to turn the others using my potion," Snape explained. "Howevr, you three _can_ turn them using the method vampires have used for hundreds of years."

"Forty humans are a lot for even three Master vampires to change," Drakul said. "We would be weakened after doing so."

That was what Snape was counting on. With the three vampires thus weakened and Voldemort under Snape's control, the Order could invade Malfoy Manor and destroy them before they could regain their strength. "You would be safe, protected by the Fidelius from other wizards and by the Dark Lord's followers who would be under your control. It would take but a few days for you to regain your strength."

Drakul nodded curtly. "You make valid points. It may have been premature to order your death, Snape. But we will brook no more self-serving actions from you — from this moment on your loyalty must lie completely with us — not Voldemort, not yourself, nor anyone else. Is that clear?"

"Clear, Master," Snape bowed, giving the oldest living vampire the respect he demanded. "I shall follow your orders to the letter from now on."

"Meet with Voldemort and take control of him as soon as possible," Drakul ordered. "When he is yours, order him to drop the protection spells and invite us in. We will be able to hear him from our vantage point."

"And we will hear what _you_ say to him as well," Drakula added, warningly. "The slightest warning to him will mean your death and the death of everyone on this estate."

"I understand, Master," Snape said, bowing slightly once again. He had felt the will of all three Master vampires impinging on his mind, seeking to know his thoughts. If he had not taken the Vampire potion he created, using the blood of all three of these Master vampires, his thoughts would be laid bare before them.

But Occlumency was more of a mental discipline than a magical one. Even some Muggles could resist the power of a Legilimens. Even so, without the strength his vampirism gave him he would not be able to present the obsequious he was putting up now.

"I go now to meet with the Dark Lord," Snape said. "You will know when I have taken control of him, I trust."

"We will know," Drakul affirmed. The three vampires watched as Snape disappeared over the side of the roof, moving back into the uppermost floor of the manor.

"We cannot trust him," Drakula said softly to his father, so quietly it would not be heard even by another Master only a few yards away. "That much was obvious when he used our own blood to Make himself one of us."

"It was not always so," his father mused. "When he first came to us he intended to help us and betray Voldemort. Now that he has the power of a Master within him, without the cunning and wisdom of our centuries of rule over the vampire world, he intends no doubt to replace the Grand Coven with his own rule." Drakul smiled thinly. "Foolish little mortal. He will be our first target after Voldemort is subdued."

=ooo=

"You got all that?" Ron asked, roughly. Peter nodded slowly, still trying to move away from him and Harry, though his back was pressed against the door of the room they'd dragged him into. Even if he changed into his Animagus form, the only way out was the way the two vampires had come in, through the wall at the far end of the room. And with their speed they'd catch him before he could make it across the room.

Telling Pettigrew Harry's plan had been complicated; Ron had bitten him, so he had to be the one who told the rat what to do. But with that finally accomplished, Harry grabbed the front of Peter's robe and pulled him close, so their noses were almost touching.

"Do you want to get out of this alive?" he asked, putting as much menace into his voice as he could. Peter nodded fearfully.

"Then do exactly what we've told you," Harry continued. "We have to get into see Voldemort alone, so you'll have to distract the guards away from him. If you try to warn him in any way, you'll find out he's not quite as forgiving of traitors as we are."

"Not that we're inclined to forgive anything, mind you," Ron added. "But helping to get rid of Voldemort _might_ keep you out of Azkaban. Maybe."

"B-boys," Peter stuttered, "I'll d-do everything I c-can to help you."

Harry could tell Peter was lying. The little rat was still out for himself, but too fearful of Voldemort's retribution to actually go against him. "We'll be watching you every step of the way," he told Pettigrew. "Now let's go."

They opened the door of the room, Harry keeping his hand on Peter's collar to keep him from running or changing, but right away there was a problem. "Damn it!" Harry muttered.

"What's wrong?" Ron, behind him, asked.

"I forgot, we can't enter anyone's house without permission!" Harry hissed.

"What do you mean?" Ron gestured to the room around them. "We're _already_ in the house!"

"This room didn't count, for some reason," Harry guessed. He dragged Peter back into the room. "Looks like you'll have to invite us in," he told the little man.

"Y-yes," Peter nodded. "P-please come in, both of you, and welcome — aaack!" Peter was suddenly clutching his own throat, gasping for breath.

"What's happening —?" Harry and Ron both stared, perplexed, until Peter reached up with his other hand, trying to pull the silvery hand away from his own throat.

"Stop!" Harry said loudly, but Peter kept on choking himself. "Ron! Stop him!"

"_Stop choking yourself_!" Ron commanded, and the hand slowly released, then fell to Peter's side. "What did you do that for?" he demanded.

"I didn't!" Wormtail cried. "I couldn't stop my h-hand f-from attacking me!"

"The hand Voldemort made for you in the graveyard of Little Hangleton," Harry remembered. "He must have enchanted it so it would kill you at the first sign of treachery towards him."

Peter looked down at his silver hand, then up at Ron. "You've saved me again," he said, softly. "Now I owe both of you my life."

"Worthless as it is right now," Ron snorted. "If you want to save your life, then get up there and distract those Death Eaters guarding Voldemort."

"I — I will," Peter nodded, and the three of them moved into the corridor toward the stairs leading up to the ground level of the manor.

At the top of the stairs Harry and Ron blended into the shadows around the doorway, becoming motionless and virtually impossible for humans to detect. Wormtail moved slowly down the hall toward the drawing room door, where Yaxley stood, watching contemptuously as the small man approached him.

"What are _you_ doing up here?" the Death Eater drawled. "You're supposed to be looking after our 'guest.'" He laughed at the joke he'd made.

"I am," Pettigrew answered, meekly. "But there is something going on outside, I heard someone moving about on the front path."

"You're not supposed to be outside at night, rat," Yaxley growled. "Are you disobeying our lord's orders?"

"No!" Pettigrew said quickly. "But I was near the front of the house in the lower level, and heard their movements through the ground! Should we alert our lord?"

"Don't be stupid," Yaxley snapped. "Send someone to the front doors to check it out."

"You are the only one on this floor," Peter pointed out. "You and the Mistress."

Yaxley shook his head in irritation. "Stay here while I have a look, then. If Snape returns don't let him in unless our lord requests it."

Peter looked surprised. "Snape is here?"

"Didn't I just say so, dimwit?" Shaking his head at the rat's dullness, Yaxley moved down the hall toward the front entrance. The door opened at his approach, and he stopped at the threshold, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing going on outside. "You were imagining things," Yaxley said, still looking outside. "Now get back downstairs and — aagh…"

Arms had clamped around his chest and head, twisting so his neck was exposed, and he felt twin needles of pain. The pain receded into a confused blur, and a voice said, "_Go to the front gate and let in anyone who shows up_."

"Yes," Yaxley said, obediently, and Harry let him go, watching as the Death Eater moved down the path between the hedges on either side. If Dumbledore and members of the Order of the Phoenix were coming to Malfoy Manor tonight, any help they got getting onto the grounds would make things that much easier.

Harry moved silently back down the hall to where Ron and Pettigrew awaited him, outside the drawing room door. "What now?" Ron asked.

Harry looked at Pettigrew. "You stay out here. If Snape shows up, stall him as long as you can. Don't let anyone else in, either, until we signal it's okay." Harry had already sensed the presence of a poweful vampire nearby; it had to be Snape.

"What are you going to do?" Peter asked, apprehensively. "Will you — will you kill him?"

"Not your concern," Harry replied shortly. He looked at Ron and nodded, and the two of them flung open the doors and sprang into the room.

=ooo=

Lord Voldemort was seated on an ornately carved wooden chair at the head of the room, in front of a barely flickering fireplace. He looked up sharply as the doors to the room flew open. "Who dares —?" but stopped as Ron and Harry stepped into the room. His red, slitted eyes seemed to glow as he watched the two of them approach, stopping a dozen feet away.

"Interesting," Voldemort said softly, staring at them. "You managed to enter Malfoy Manor despite the Fidelius placed on it. That should be impossible."

"Should be," Harry shrugged. "But here we are anyway."

"You are supposed to be dead, Potter, both you and your red-headed friend here. Has Snape been keeping the truth from me all this time?"

"Snape thought we were dead, too," Potter replied, coldly. "But our deaths were somewhat exaggerated, just as yours was, Tom."

"Do not speak that name!" Voldemort hissed. His wand was suddenly in his hand. "_Avada Kedavra_!" he cried, and a green bolt of energy hit Ron in the chest. Ron looked down at his chest, where the bolt had impacted, then looked up, smirking at the man who had just tried to kill him.

"That tickled," he sneered. "Want to have another go?"

Voldemort stared in surprise, but only for a moment. His wand slashed the air, and red cuts appeared across both Harry and Ron's chests. Both wounds closed up again moments later.

Voldemort raised his wand again, to cast another curse, but the wand suddenly flew from his hand, plucked from it by vampiric strength and speed. Harry and Ron were now standing over him, having moved faster than he could perceive. "I believe this one's yours, Harry," Ron said, and Harry smiled at the Dark Lord, flashing his vampire fangs.

"Fang you very much," Harry quipped, exposing his teeth in a rictus.

Voldemort looked at him in horror, an expression that had not crossed his face since his return two years ago, as Harry moved toward his throat.

"Stop!" a voice suddenly called, and both Harry and Ron whirled to see Severus Snape standing before them. "What are you two doing here?"

"Look who's coming to dinner," Harry said, still smiling.

"Potter, you're ruining everything!" Snape raged, angered that he and Weasley had gotten to the Dark Lord before him. Wormtail had tried to stop him from entering but Snape had brushed him aside easily.

"Snape!" Voldemort cried, seeing him standing there. "My faithful followers will see you dead, you and these two as well! And I will be there to revel in your agony!"

A tremendous explosion outside suddenly shook the manor. "I think reinforcements have arrived," Ron said. "Time to put the bite on our host, Harry!"

Harry leaned forward again, but Snape flashed forward at vampiric speed, grasping Harry by the shoulder and stopping him from biting Voldemort's neck. Ron put out an arm to stop him, but Snape pushed both him and Harry away, flinging them to either side of the room. Both of them landed on their feet, hissing angrily at Snape.

Snape didn't waste any time. He grabbed Voldemort and bent his misshapen head to one side, exposing his pale, white neck. But before he could sink his fangs into the Dark Lord's neck, another pair of hands grabbed him roughly from behind, throwing him the length of the room.

Snape fetched up against the far wall, then floated slowly to the floor, unhurt. Three more figures had entered the room: the Grand Coven. Two of them moved toward Voldemort, taking hold of him and dragging him to his feet. The Dark wizard struggled but was no match against the strength of two Master vampires. The third Master, Drakul, looked slowly about the room, from the red-headed vampire that stared warily at him, to the abomination that had made himself a vampire using the blood of the Coven itself, to the young, dark-haired vampire that stood defiantly nearby.

"Ah, Harry Potter, we meet at last," Drakul said, in a deceptively calm voice. "I wondered if we would find you here. I had thought the old wizard would have warned you to stay away."

"If you mean Dumbledore," Harry said, his anger barely controlled. "He doesn't command me anymore."

"I'm sure," the old vampire smiled indulgently. "But as the oldest vampire and the leader of the Grand Coven, I _do_."

Harry shook his head. "You don't. You're not my Maker, and besides that, you're evil. I would never follow you!"

"You were going to drink Voldemort's blood only moments ago," Drakul pointed out. "Surely you realize that blood as Dark and tainted as his would have turned you Dark as well, even if you didn't take his life."

Ron gasped, but Harry said, "You're lying."

The other elder vampires laughed. "Von Necros has not been entirely truthful with you, either," Drakula said. "Drinking Dark blood will begin to turn you Dark as well, until one inevitable day you will kill and become Dark yourself."

"That is true," a new voice said. Harry and the others turned to see von Necros standing in the doorway. "But Harry would have resisted the urge to kill."

Drakul's red eyes flashed anger at the appearance of their wayward Coven member, but he merely smiled once again. "I see you have decided to join us as well, von Necros. This room is beginning to look like a membership drive for the International Vampire Society."

"Droll, _Voivode_ Drakul," von Necros murmured.

"Wait!" Voldemort suddenly spoke. "This is impossible! None of you can enter this place without the Fidelius being broken, and it is still intact!"

Drakul turned to face the Dark Lord. "That would be correct, Voldemort, if we were merely half-vampires and still alive. But we are _true_ vampires, undead and unbound by the chains of life. Your Fidelius spell means nothing to us."

"But you still required permission to enter this house," Harry spoke up. "Just as we did. How did you manage _that_?"

De Rais answered. "Easy enough for us to lure one of the guards outside, then have him give permission for us to enter."

"I did much the same thing," von Necros said. "There was a man waiting for us at the front gates."

Harry looked at him. "'Us?'" he repeated, hopefully. "Did you bring others with you?"

"Yes," von Necros nodded. "Several members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"_Snape_!" Voldemort raged, glaring at him across the room. "You betrayed me to Dumbledore! I knew I should have had you killed!"

"It is too late for that, my lord," Snape sneered in reply. "I am already dead, now. Or at least, undead."

"A condition we will remedy shortly," de Rais, still holding Voldemort, hissed.

"We will see," Snape replied.

"Those Order members better show up pretty quick," Ron, who hadn't spoken since the Grand Coven appeared, muttered.

Drakul laughed. "_They_ are still bound by Voldemort's Fidelius, little vampire," he said, scornfully. "They will remain outside until our business here is concluded."

"And what business is that?" Ron asked, warily.

"Why, you, Potter and Snape's death, and the subjugation of Lord Voldemort to our will," Drakul said, turning to look at him again.

"And what of me?" von Necros asked, sardonically. "Do you not plan to kill me as well?"

"Not immediately," Drakul said, seriously. "We will bring you before the full Coven and show your treachery against us, then have you burned as a warning to all."

"And what about Voldemort?" Harry wanted to know.

"_Him_ we will leave alive," Drakula answered. "He will rule Britain as a figurehead forevermore, enforcing his ideas on blood purity, while we prey on wizards and mortals alike."

"I am no one's puppet!" Voldemort raged, but de Rais cuffed him across the face, drawing blood.

"Silence, worm," de Rais snapped. "Your fate was sealed months ago, when you decided to overthrow your Ministry. You will succeed, but only with our help — and we will rule Britain with you dancing on the end of our strings."

"Not if we can help it," Harry said. "Voldemort has to die!"

And then the fight started.


	20. And Then the Fight Started

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant  
><strong>Chapter Twenty  
>"<strong>And Then the Fight Started"<br>**Updated December 29, 2012

=ooo=

Harry had shouted "Voldemort has to die!" in the heat of the moment. In reality he knew he had to keep him alive in order to force him to reveal the location of his Horcruxes, so they could be found and destroyed, so Voldemort would become mortal once again.

Harry lunged toward the Coven members holding Voldemort, hoping to bowl the lot of them over. With any luck he could then grab Voldemort and flee, trusting Snape, von Necros and the Order members currently assaulting Malfoy Manor to prevent anyone from pursuing them.

De Rais, however, simply gestured toward Harry, and an invisible force flung him into a corner of the room, where he crashed into the walls with enough force to kill a human being. Harry, however, was only temporarily stunned. From the opposite side Ron, taking advantage of the momentary distraction, plowed into Drakula, de Rais and Voldemort, knocking them to the ground.

Even as Ron reached for Voldemort, though, he felt a powerful hand grasp his shoulder, lift him away from the Dark Lord and fling him across the room toward Snape. Snape stood his ground, lifting a hand, and Ron stopped in mid-air only feet away from the newly-created Master vampire. Ron stared into Snape's eyes for a split-second, wondering what he would do next, then shook his head desperately as he saw Snape's arm move back. The arm pushed forward, propelling Ron back toward the Coven members at full speed.

Von Necros was rushing toward Drakul, trying to surprise him with a frontal attack. The two vampires grappled, but Drakul was clearly the stronger. He lifted von Necros into the air and threw him toward the doorway leading out of the room. At the same moment Ron crashed into Drakul, and the two of them sprawled on the floor.

Harry bolted toward them from the corner, grabbing Voldemort and leaping away toward the far end of the room, narrowly avoiding Drakul's sharp-clawed hand as he reached for him. He and Voldemort landed twenty feet away, near a window, and Harry was about to smash through the window with Voldemort, escaping the Grand Coven, when Drakula and de Rais stood again, this time with Ron held between them. "Stop, Potter!" Drakula shouted. "Or your friend dies!"

"Harry, don't stop!" Ron shouted from between the two Master vampires. "Get Voldemort out of here! Aaugh!" Ron groaned with pain as Drakula and de Rais each pulled on an arm threateningly.

"They will dismember your friend, Harry Potter," Drakul warned him. "He will not die, but vampire limbs do not grow back. Give us Voldemort, and we will allow you and your friend to live, if you join our cause."

"Don't — do it, Harry," Ron gritted out, painfully. "We can't let them enslave Brit— aaaaah!" he screamed as de Rais twisted his arm painfully.

Then Snape did an impossible thing. He _Apparated_.

Reappearing behind Drakul and de Rais, holding Ron between them, Snape slashed out with razor-sharp fingernails, slicing open the two Master vampires necks. Both vampires instantly clamped a hand to their necks, spinning away out of reach, and Snape grabbed Ron and Apparated _again_, this time next to Harry and Voldemort.

Harry gaped at the Defense professor as he pushed Ron toward him. "How did you —" he began, but Snape cut him off.

"Go!" Snape hissed at Harry. "Von Necros and I will keep the Coven from following you!" Harry was staring in utter surprise at Snape, who pointed at the nearby window and rasped, "Go, you fools!"

Harry instantly grabbed Voldemort and Ron's arms and leaped for the window, shattering it as the three of them rose into the air, away from Malfoy Manor.

=ooo=

"Idiots," Hermione muttered, as curses flew past her and the other members of Dumbledore's Army who had retreated to a nearby intersection a short distance from the Slytherin common room entrance. The Slytherins had retreated back to their common room and were now throwing spells at them from the doorway.

But since only two or three people could cast spells from there, neither side had an advantage. They had managed to keep the Slytherins from leaving the castle, but they were now at a standoff. Which was _fine_, as far as Hermione was concerned; keeping the Slytherins here had been their primary reason for coming down to confront them in their common room.

In the Slytherin common room a furious Draco Malfoy was shouting at Pansy, Zabini, and Crabbe, the three Slytherins guarding the door, to keep throwing hexes at the D.A. He needed time to think. Could he use the Portkey Snape had given them from the Slytherin common room? If it just set off wards in the school he didn't care, he'd be at Malfoy Manor and safe. But if the school wards prevented the Portkey from working, and whatever was happening at Malfoy Manor didn't work out in their favor, he was in serious trouble with the Dark Lord. _Lethal_ trouble, which was almost true now in any case, now that the Vanishing Cabinet in Borgin and Burke's was damaged beyond repair.

He looked at the potion vial, the Portkey that would take him and the others to Malfoy Manor. There was really no choice — he would have to risk it.

But — another thought occurred to him. None of the other Slytherins would be able to enter Malfoy Manor; none of them had been told it was where Voldemort's headquarters were, and without that knowledge they could not enter, or even _see_, Draco's home. To them the manor would be utterly unknowable. Therefore, there was really no reason to bring them along.

Draco frowned. He could have used the extra help; there was no telling how many of the Dark Lord's enemies were trying to break into his home. Fortunately, they were subject to the Fidelius, too, so he might be able to catch them outside unawares and ambush them. Draco nodded to himself. That was what he would do.

Backing away slowly from the group of Slytherins bunched near the entrance, Draco slipped into a corridor leading to the dorm rooms, then held up the vial and tapped it with his wand, whispering, "Go." He vanished in whirl of color.

Goyle turned around, recognizing the sound of a Portkey activating, his wand at the ready. Could someone be attacking them from the rear? But there was no one there, and after several seconds he turned his attention back to the three House members who were firing curses at the D.A. dorks.

"Somebody needs to take over for me!" Pansy yelled at the others. "I can't go much longer!" Goyle grunted and stepped forward, pulling her away from the door and taking her place.

"I got it," he told her, then began firing hexes toward the intersection the D.A. members were hiding behind. "Tell Draco he needs to figure out something fast."

Pansy turned around, searching the faces in the group behind her. "Draco?" she called out, and the other Slytherins checked among themselves for their _de facto_ leader. Pansy ran through the group, going to Draco's room, then returned moments later. "He's not in his room!" she said, bewildered. "Where _is_ he?"

Vincent Crabbe stopped casting hexes long enough to give Gregory Goyle a questioning look. Goyle shrugged and Crabbe sighed resignedly. It wasn't the first time Malfoy had abandoned them when it suited his purposes. "We're done," he said to Goyle and Zabini, and stepped back from the common room doorway.

Zabini, not understanding the comment, was still firing hexes up the corridor. "Zabini," Crabbe said. "Cut it out. Draco left without us."

"What?!" Zabini whirled around to confront the huge Slytherin, but Goyle, who had stepped away from the door as well, stood next to his fellow minion, and Zabini lowered his wand, backing down. "What do you _mean_, 'Draco left without us'?"

"He's gone, you idiot!" Pansy shouted at him. "That's what it means!"

"Shut the door," Crabbe said. "The D.A. can't get in without the password. Let's just hope nobody's let it slip since it was last changed."

=ooo=

"What are they _doing_?" Dean Thomas whispered to Seamus, who shook his head. The Slytherins had suddenly stopped casting curses and shut the door to the common room.

"Maybe they give up?" Cho Chang said, hopefully.

"Or it's a trick of some kind," Neville suggested.

Hermione wasn't sure what to think, either way. "We'll find out soon enough," she whispered. "I sent Padma to get Professor Snape. They'll _have_ to open the door for him."

But minutes stretched slowly with no sign of Padma returning with the Defense professor. Hermione sent Parvati after McGonagall but only a few minutes later both Patil twins appeared around a corner, rushing up to them.

"I couldn't find Professor Snape," Padma whispered breathlessly to Hermione. "But I did think of a professor that might be able to help us."

Hermione was about to ask when the sound of labored gasps of breath echoed along the corridor. Professor Slughorn came around the corner where Padma had appeared, waddling towards them as fast as he could manage, dressed in a velvet smoking jacket and silk pajamas (at least the bottoms were silk, the jacket hid the top) and slippers.

"Ah — _puff_ — young ladies, I — _wheeze_ — wish you'd — _huff_ — waited for me," Slughorn panted, then stopped short as he saw Hermione and the others standing there. "Wait, what — _huff_ — is going on here — _puff_ — now? Miss Patil said — _wheeze_ — there was a problem in — _whoosh_ — the Slytherin common room — _hahhh_ — and Severus wasn't available — _gasp_."

Padma turned to Hermione. "It's not just Snape who's gone. Professor McGonagall wasn't in her living quarters — I checked after trying to find Snape. I found Parvati and we checked on Professor Flitwick, but he's gone as well."

"There's nothing — _hooo_ — to be concerned about," Slughorn interjected quickly. "They were merely called — _huff_ — to the Ministry."

"At this time of night?" Hermione said, suspiciously. "Professor, that doesn't make sense."

"Now, my dear — _puff _— when has the Ministry — _hooo_ — ever acted sensibly?" Slughorn asked, sounding a little condescending despite being out of breath.

"The Ministry isn't even the issue right now," Hermione pointed out, trying to get back to the situation at hand. "The issue is that a group of Slytherin students were trying to leave Hogwarts, for reasons unknown, when no one can be outside the castle after dark. We can't find their Head of House, and you were a former head of House Slytherin. Do you think they'll talk to you?"

"Of course they will. With Minerva gone I am the most senior staff member as well as a former Slytherin Head of House. I'll go see what's coming off here." Slughorn drew himself up to his full height (not much taller than Hermione, if at all) and began walking down the corridor toward the Slytherin common room entrance.

"If Dumbledore were here," Parvati whispered to Hermione, "_he_ would be the senior staff member. Professor Slughorn must know Dumbledore is gone, too."

"Maybe," Hermione whispered back. "He's the most senior staff present _here_, at least. Maybe we should follow him, just in case." Hermione began moving cautiously down the corridor behind the Potions professor. The other D.A. members looked at each other, then began following Hermione. Soon every D.A. member there was creeping down the corridor after Slughorn.

The Potions Master stopped, still some distance away, and called out, "It's Professor Horace Slughorn! Slytherins, wands away, if you please!" Behind him, Hermione and the rest of the D.A. came to a halt as well. Slughorn glanced behind him and, seeing the D.A. members with their wands out, mouthed the words, "Wands away, if you please!" to them. Hermione nodded and put her wand away, motioning for the others to do the same.

A voice from inside the common room spoke. "How do we know it's really Professor Slughorn. It could be Granger using a Ventriloquism Charm or someone Polyjuiced to look like him!"

Slughorn sighed. "Quite right, Mr. Crabbe," he said, having recognized the voice. "But if I were a student I would not know the password for the Slytherin common room."

"You would if you were a prefect!" another voice called out.

"Contrary to common belief, Mr. Zabini," Slughorn went on, "prefects are not given _all_ the passwords, only the ones to their common rooms, and then only if applicable. Ravenclaw, for example, has no password — instead you must correctly answer a question put to you. Now, may I enter?"

Silence for several moments. Then, "Come ahead, if you know the password."

Slughorn's wand twitched, and the stone door suddenly slid aside. Hermione had not heard the Potions Master speak — he must have concealed the password from them. He put out a hand toward Hermione, motioning for them to keep back, then stepped into the room. In spite of his warning, Hermione and the others crept forward to hear what Slughorn had to say to the Slytherins.

"A cozy little group," they heard Slughorn murmur. "I wonder why all of you wanted to leave the castle earlier."

"It was no big deal," they heard Crabbe say, in his surprisingly soft voice. "Draco wanted to go for a walk and we all thought it would be fun."

"I see," Slughorn replied, in a bemused tone. "And where is Mr. Malfoy? I don't see him here with you."

"Er — he went to bed?" Goyle said, before Crabbe could respond.

"Hmm," Slughorn's voice still held that tone of bemusement. "Perhaps we should go wake him, get the full story from him, do you think?"

"Mr. Malfoy doesn't like to be disturbed when he's sleeping," Crabbe said, speaking quickly.

"Oh, I see," Slughorn's voice replied. There was a hint of amusement in it. "Well, then, we'll let the lad have his rest. Now, then, do you mind explaining why you were throwing curses at the students in the corridor outside your common room?"

"They were attacking us!" Pansy Parkinson's voice replied, angrily. "We were just going for a walk and they attacked us!"

"One of those students is a prefect," Slughorn pointed out. "You know you are supposed to obey prefects, correct?"

"Draco's a prefect, too!" Pansy retorted.

"So he is," Slughorn agreed. "Perhaps we should wake him, get his side of the story —"

"Er — he won't like that," Crabbe said, speaking quickly again.

"Well, then," Slughorn pointed out. "Without Mr. Malfoy's input on this incident, perhaps we should agree that there'll be no more fighting in the corridors, and you and the other students will remain in your dorm tonight. Well, speak up!"

There was a muffled, reluctant chorus of "Yes, sir," from the Slytherins.

"Splendid!" Slughorn said, jovially. "Good night, all," he said, then waddled out of the Slytherin common room. The stone door shut behind him.

Slughorn put a hand to his lips, then waved the D.A. members on ahead of him as they retreated to the first intersection. "That should hold them for tonight," he said in a low voice, as the students gathered around him.

"But what happened to Malfoy?" Hermione asked. "How could he have gotten out without going past us? Is there another way out of the Slytherin common room?"

"I cannot say one way or another about that," Slughorn replied. "It's been many years since I was Head of Slytherin. But I'm relatively certain he was not in the common room just now. I shall be looking into that matter tomorrow, you may rest assured, Miss Granger. Now, off with the lot of you," he added, crisply. "It's not long before the common room curfew takes effect!"

=ooo=

Harry's leap carried him, Ron and Voldemort high into the air, away from Malfoy Manor and over the countryside of Wiltshire. At the height of his leap, Harry kicked in his flying power and they continued upward into the skies.

"Ron!" Harry shouted. "Grab Voldemort's other arm, I want to make sure he —" with a sudden wrench at that moment, Voldemort broke Harry's grip on his arm and _flew away_ from them.

"Holy crap!" Ron yelled. "Voldemort can fly?!"

"Looks like it," Harry said. But the Dark Lord was having difficulty staying aloft — not having his wand probably wasn't helping any. Voldemort was losing altitude, rapidly going into a dive.

Ron was giving Harry a quizzical look. "Are we going after him?" he asked, expectantly.

"Yeah," Harry said, after a moment. "We still need to find those Horcruxes. Come on." Harry and Ron flew after him, diving toward Voldemort to catch him before he hit the ground. Within moments they had each grabbed one of the Dark Lord's arms, and while he struggled against them, he was no match for vampiric strength. They soared upward again, into the night, until after several minutes Harry turned downward again.

They landed in a clearing in a secluded wooded area, being careful not to land so quickly that the Dark Lord would be hurt when he hit the ground, but once there Harry pushed him, making him fall. He and Ron stood on either side of him — Voldemort looked up at them, his red eyes narrowed in anger, but also fear; Harry could sense it radiating from him, just as at one time he could sense the Dark Lord's thoughts themselves. He no longer felt that connection, but the vampiric powers that had replaced that ability were more than adequate for reading his thoughts.

"Time has run out for you, Tom," Harry said coldly. "And for your Horcruxes."

Something like dread flashed across Riddle's face, but he sneered and said, "What do you think you know of Horcruxes, Potter?"

"I know about yours, and I know you've created six of them," Harry said.

"Why do you believe that?" Voldemort challenged. "Surely you know that each time a soul is split it becomes more unstable. By the time I'd split my soul that many ways I would barely be sane."

"We've already destroyed two of them," Harry told him, his voice cold as ice. "Your diary and your ring."

"You lie!" Voldemort rasped, and he was suddenly on his feet, staring down at Harry with those red, slitted eyes. "I would know if you had destroyed them!"

"Apparently not," Harry grinned, showing his teeth. "You may have misread the books you got your information from, or perhaps they were just wrong."

Voldemort looked stunned, but only for a moment. "Prove it, Potter!" he said, challengingly. "Show me the book and the diary or admit you are lying!"

"You're not in any position to demand anything," Harry growled, and took a step toward Voldemort, who moved away from him, avoiding his gaze. "And that's not going to help you. Ron," he nodded, and Ron was suddenly behind the Dark Lord, holding his arms. A moment later Harry was standing in front of Riddle, holding his thin, white face in one hand, staring into those red eyes with his green ones, "_Tom Riddle, you will obey me_."

"N-no…" Riddle tried to struggle, but Ron's arms held him like irons.

His will was strong, Harry realized. He exerted even more influence. "_You will obey me_!"

"I—I…will…_not_."

"_OBEY ME_!"

Voldemort's entire body was shuddering. "…NO! WILL NOT!"

Harry hissed in frustration. "I will make you, then!" He pushed Voldemort's head aside, stretching his neck, then bit into it.

Blood flowed into Harry's mouth. It was the vilest blood he'd ever tasted, and it burned like fire as it went down his throat. He groaned as he drank, mouthful after mouthful, until he was sure Voldemort would be unable to resist his commands. Wrenching his mouth away, he wiped the burning liquid from his lips and spat out the last few drops of it. He felt like puking, but he needed Voldemort's blood in order to command him, if he couldn't mesmerize him.

Voldemort was limp in Ron's arms. The wounds on his neck had already begun to close — there must be some kind of healing magic on him, Harry surmised. Ron himself was staring at Harry in horror. "M-Merlin's pants, Harry," he whispered. "I didn't think you would actually _do_ that, not after what the Coven members told you could happen if you drank You-Know-Who's blood."

"They might have been lying about what Voldemort's blood would do to me," Harry said, though he was holding his stomach. He could feel the Dark Lord's blood coursing through him, making him stronger. "It tasted awful, but it's not going to turn me Dark, Ron." _I hope_, he added to himself.

"Now," he said, looking Voldemort in the eye once again. "_How many Horcruxes did you make_?"

Voldemort was shuddering violently, trying not to answer. _He still has a lot of willpower_, Harry thought. "_TELL ME_," he demanded, exerting more hypnotic power.

"I — I — made s-six Horcruxes in all," the Dark Lord rasped; the words were being forced out of him against his will.

"_Describe them_._ In detail_."

"I made the d-diary in 1943 d-during the final days of the school year," Voldemort began, his body still shuddering as he fought not to answer. "I made the r-ring after school ended that s-same year, after t-taking it from my g-grandfather Marvolo Gaunt."

"_Who did you kill to make them_?" Harry demanded.

"A — a Muggleborn witch named Myrtle," Voldemort answered, slowly. "I ordered the Monster of Slytherin to kill her."

"_And the ring_?"

"My f-father."

Ron was shaking his head. "Bloody bastard," he muttered.

Harry agreed with this remark but didn't comment on it. "_What other Horcruxes have you created_? _Tell me_!" he commanded.

Voldemort opened his slit of a mouth, but he was still fighting Harry's hypnotism. "I — I — w-won't…"

"_You have no choice_!" Harry hissed, exerting every ounce of vampiric mesmerism he could muster. "_Tell me the Horcruxes you created_!"

"I — I — made a — ahhhh, in my last year at Hogwarts — I found the Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw," Voldemort gasped.

Harry was drawing a blank. He looked at Ron. "Did you ever hear of anything like that?" he asked.

"Huh-uh," Ron shook his head. He gestured toward Voldemort. "Make him tell us what it is."

"_What is this Lost Diadem_?"

"It — was a magical artifact created by Rowena Ravenclaw," Voldemort answered. "It would enhance the wearer's wisdom."

"_Where is it now_?"

"At Hogwarts," Voldemort answered. For the first time since they'd landed in the clearing a smile twisted the Dark Lord's mouth. "It is hidden where you will never be able to find it, Potter," he sneered. "Only I knew the secret of the Room of Lost Things, and I've removed that memory from my mind and destroyed it — now no one will ever be able to find it!"

Ron started to speak but Harry put up a hand, stopping him. He didn't want Voldemort to know that he knew what the 'Room of Lost Things' was — it was one way the Room of Requirement could appear to students, so they could hide things they didn't want found. For some reason Voldemort thought he was the only student at Hogwarts who had ever discovered that room!

"_That's three Horcruxes_," Harry told him. "_Tell us about the rest_."

"I took two items from a witch named Hepzibah Smith — Burke sent me to persuade her to sell some goblin-made armor to the store. While I was there she showed me Helga Hufflepuff's cup, and Salazar Slytherin's locket as well."

"Are they at Hogwarts as well?" Harry asked, secretly hopeful.

"No," Voldemort smiled again. "The cup is stored safely in a vault in Gringotts, and the locket — the locket is well-hidden and well-protected."

"_WHERE_?" Harry demanded.

"In — in a c-cave off the southern coast of England," Voldemort finally replied, reluctantly. "N-near D-Dover," he finally added.

"_And what Gringotts vault is the cup hidden in_?" Harry continued.

"The Lestrange vault," Voldemort replied. "Beyond even your reach, Potter — no one but Bellatrix Lestrange herself, or her husband Rodolphus, may enter there."

"We'll just see about that," Ron sneered. Voldemort looked at him with contempt.

"_Your last Horcrux_," Harry said, his voice still commanding Voldemort's obedience. "_What is it_?"

The Dark Lord was resisting once again, but Harry's will was stronger. "I — after I was restored to my body, I returned to Albania, to plan how I would take over the Ministry and kill _you_, Potter. There I fortuitously came across one Bertha Jorkins, a foolish woman who worked at the Ministry. After I took everything I needed from her nearly empty mind, I used her to create my final Horcrux — my s-snake, N-Nagini."

Voldemort's final words sounded as if they'd been forced from his throat, and Harry could see why, even without asking — the Dark Lord's thoughts had told him: the snake was at Malfoy Manor, unprotected. If anyone managed to kill it, another one of his Horcruxes would be lost.

And now they knew where the rest of the Horcruxes were. Harry looked up into the night sky, estimating. Dover was a fair distance from Wiltshire — it would take time to fly there, especially with Voldemort in tow. But they needed him in case they needed to force more knowledge from him to get the Horcrux.

"We're flying to Dover," Harry said. "Tonight."

"Hell, yeah!" Ron agreed.

"You'll never get to my Horcrux," Voldemort said, boldness entering his voice for the first time. "Its protections are beyond your understanding."

"That's why you're coming with us," Harry snapped, grabbing his arm. Ron took hold of the other arm. "And if you try and fly away again I'll let you fall and take my chances without you." With a nod to Ron the two vampires rose into the night sky, dragging the reluctant Dark Lord between them, turning eastward toward the cliffs of Dover, nearly a hundred miles away.

=ooo=

The Portkey dropped Draco in the country lane that ran past Malfoy Manor some distance from the driveway leading up to the iron gates that guarded the estate. Draco looked around cautiously; without his bodyguards here, where there were likely to be enemies lurking about, trying to discover a way in, he would have to be constantly on guard.

Walking in through the front gates would be risky. He might be caught before he could get through. His father had warned him against trying anything foolhardy, back before he was thrown into Azkaban because of Harry Potter. Draco's expression twisted in anger. Potter! He wished that half-blood was alive again so he could kill him slowly, painfully. Perhaps, when the Dark Lord had won the day, Draco could vent his frustration by torturing the Mudblood Granger. That thought brought a smile to his face, however briefly.

Fortunately, there was another way inside: the old stone shed that stood outside the grounds, a short distance from the lane he now stood upon. It was boarded up and looked like an old Muggle outbuilding — no wizard would give it a second thought, or believe that it guarded a secret way in and out of Malfoy Manor, but his family was nothing if not prepared for every situation.

Walking away from the country road, Draco began searching around the trees and bushes for the old stone structure. He found it at last, but stopped short as he saw that the boards had been pulled off the door. Checking the door, however, Draco found it was still locked. Good — that meant that whoever had tried to get in here hadn't been able to unlock the door. It was protected by spells that not even _Alohomora_ could break.

Draco took out his wand and pointed it at the lock. The spell to unlock the door magically was complicated, and Draco had to think for a second to recall the words. But before he could begin the incantation a voice spoke behind him.

"Well, look who's joined the party."

Draco spun around instantly toward the voice, shouting "_Stupef_—" but his wand suddenly flew from his hand. A moment later heavy ropes shot out of nowhere, binding him securely, and he fell over onto the ground. There was a _cracking_ sound like eggs breaking, and two wizards appeared out of thin air before him — the Headmaster, Dumbledore, and an old, grizzled wizard with an artificial eye of electric blue, an eye that was spinning madly in its socket. Draco recognized him from Hogwarts as well — it was Mad-Eye Moody, a retired Auror and one of the worst enemies the Death Eaters had ever had, according to his father.

"So what're you doing here, sonny boy?" Moody asked him, leaning forward to stare into Draco's eyes. "Come home to be with your mummy?"

"Alastor," Dumbledore said, mildly reproving. "I'm sure young Mr. Malfoy will tell us the reason why he's left the safety of Hogwarts — without permission, I should point out — to return to his parents' home without you taunting him."

"It's — it's personal," Draco said, sullenly. "I knew you'd never give me permission, so I left on my own."

"Draco," Dumbledore said, a touch of sadness in his voice. "It is no use pretending — we know that you are here because of Voldemort."

Draco started, but he wasn't about to give in even if Dumbledore knew about the Dark Lord. There was no way they could get inside, anyway, not unless they forced him to take them in, and Draco knew the Headmaster would never do that.

What Moody would do, however, he wasn't so sure. Draco still remembered that that former Defense professor had turned him into a ferret. The Deputy Headmistress had forced him to return Draco to normal, but the humiliation of that experience still burned in Draco's brain.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco retorted, coldly. "I have no idea where the Dark Lord is."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Surely you know that isn't true, Draco. We know where he is. And I know he is forcing you to do things you do not wish to do."

"What — no, you're wrong about that!" Draco cried, but he wondered — how did the Headmaster _know_? Had Snape betrayed him? Draco's anger burned again — yes, he probably had! Another person he would enjoy torturing after the Dark Lord triumphed!

"So what're you doing here, kid?" Moody demanded. "If you'd had a legitimate reason to come home you wouldn't have used an illegal Portkey."

"What makes you think I used a Portkey?" Draco asked, challengingly.

Moody pointed to his electric blue eye, still spinning in its socket. "Saw you arrive. I know what Portkey travel looks like, kid."

"So what? You're retired — you don't have any authority over me!"

"I, however, do," Dumbledore pointed out. "And I must insist that you return to Hogwarts immediately, Draco. You are not safe here."

"Hold on a second, Albus," Moody disagreed. "Maybe there's a way we can use Malfoy's son to get past the Fidelius." Draco paled; his father had told him there was no way Dumbledore could defeat the Fidelius, but nobody knew what kind of tricks an Auror like Moody could come up with.

Dumbledore looked unsmilingly at Moody. "Alastor, I do not endanger the lives of my students."

Moody grinned crookedly. "Yeah, I bet Potter appreciates all those times you 'protected' him during the last six years," he said, ironically.

Draco snorted to himself. He always knew the Headmaster gave preferential treatment to Potter — now one of his own people had admitted it!

"Nevertheless, Alastor," Dumbledore continued, ignoring Moody's jab, "I will not put young Mr. Malfoy at risk for the sake of entering Malfoy Manor."

"I'm not going to help you," Draco declared adamantly. "No matter what you do to me!"

Moody spoke without turning toward him. "You shouldn't let your mouth make promises your arse can't keep, boy," he growled. "But I'll tell you what — you can walk in the front gates if you want to, or the Headmaster can send you back to Hogwarts. You make the call."

Draco didn't respond right away. Was there some way they could use him passing through the gates to gain entrance for themselves? He glanced at Dumbledore, but the Headmaster was merely looking at him, an infuriating smile on his stupid face, and Draco knew he couldn't risk going in.

"I'll go back to Hogwarts," he mumbled resentfully, knowing he was beaten.

"Thought so," Moody snorted. "Too bad, kid — I thought you'd take the risk."

"And give you a way in? I'm not stupid!" Draco said angrily. Dumbledore was already creating a Portkey from a quill he'd pulled from his robes, and he handed it to Draco.

"It will activate in five seconds," Dumbledore said. "And I advise you to stay there this time." Before Draco could retort the Portkey whisked him away.

"Nicely played, Alastor," Dumbledore said, after Malfoy was gone. "Are you sure you don't want to try teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts next year?"

"I'm staying retired this time," Moody grunted. "Now let's just get through this crap with Voldie so I can finally get some rest. I wish we knew what was going on in there. With Snape, Potter and Weasley all vampers along with those Coven vamps, it's bound to be a real bloodbath."

"I am worried," Dumbledore admitted. "Snape should have appeared long before now with Voldemort, forcing him to reveal the secret of his Fidelius so we can enter Malfoy Manor."

"With Snape," Moody shrugged, "there's no telling. That greasy git never wants to play by the rules. Let's just hope he doesn't get us all killed."

=ooo=

Snape leaped through the window right after Harry, Ron and Voldemort crashed through it, but not to follow them. He hovered above the window, hoping one of the Grand Coven members would take the bait and follow him. One-on-one he was a match for any of them, even Drakul, the oldest and strongest of the three, having taken their blood to make the potion that transformed him into a vampire.

But no one followed him, and after several seconds Snape floated down so he could see in the window. Inside he saw Drakula and de Rais holding Baron von Necros between them, with Drakul, arms folded across his chest, staring imperiously at the broken window, as if he expected to see Snape return any moment.

"We have your ally, Snape," the vampire leader said at last. "A traitor to our own cause. I know you are out there — I can feel your presence through our blood connection. You are being foolish, resisting us like this."

"You left me no choice," Snape replied, from outside. "For Britain to fall into the hands of vampires is something I find I cannot allow."

"The final result is inevitable," Drakula said imperiously. "I and my son are the oldest vampires alive. Together we are invincible!"

"Yet you allowed Voldemort to escape," Snape pointed out, dryly.

"A minor inconvenience," Drakula shrugged. "He will return. He desires immortality, and we offer that, as well as power."

Voldemort already had immortality, Snape knew, with his Horcruxes, but if Potter and Weasley managed to force him to reveal the locations where he'd hidden them, and destroy them, his immortality would disappear. In that case, Drakula could be right. Would the Dark Lord embrace vampirism as an alternate path?

"The Dark Lord was powerless against even two younger vampires," Snape reminded them. "You should not expect him back anytime soon."

"And what of your ally, von Necros?" Drakul called out. "Perhaps he should die the True Death for his crimes against us. Come inside and give yourself up, Snape, and we will consider sparing his life."

"Do not listen to them!" von Necros shouted. "They will kill —" his voice cut off suddenly. Snape said nothing, to the vampires asking if von Necros was okay would be seen as weakness.

"What you do with von Necros is your own concern," Snape said, his voice indifferent. "He is one of you, after all, and a house divided against itself cannot stand."

From within Malfoy Manor came the hollow laughter of the Grand Coven leader. "Quoting scripture, Snape?" Drakul chuckled. "I did not take you for a religious man."

"Knowledge is knowledge," Snape retorted. "It does not matter where it comes from."

"True," Drakul agreed. "And here is another bit of knowledge. At midnight, if you do not surrender yourself to us, we shall kill von Necros."

"A bluff," Snape argued. "He is a member of your Coven."

"A _former_ member," Drakul corrected. "His crimes against us are too numerous to forgive. But we _can_ be forgiving, Snape," the head vampire continued. "If you return with Voldemort, we shall spare both you and von Necros."

Snape was silent, appearing to ponder these words. After some time he spoke again. "In what capacity would we be allowed to live?"

"As leaders of your own coven, in the country of your choice."

"That is…generous," Snape spoke hesitantly. "Considering you planned to kill both of us only moments earlier."

"We desire your cooperation," Drakula spoke this time. "Not your death. You and von Necros should be with us, not against us. We offer you this last chance to change your mind."

"I will…consider it," Snape said, after several more moments of silence. "I do not know if I will be able to retrieve the Dark Lord by your deadline, but I will try." Snape's dark-clad form disappeared into the night.

"Fool," Drakula snorted, after Snape had gone. "Can he really think we would allow him to live after his treachery?"

"He has not been a vampire long," his father mused. "He has not yet learned to think like us. If he returns by midnight with Voldemort, well and good — we will use the wizard and his minions to take over Britain, as planned. And if not…we have ways of making Severus Snape see things our way, whether he desires to or no."

=ooo=

"This is getting ridiculous," Moody groused. "I was expecting to _attack_ Malfoy Manor, not lay siege to it!"

"Patience, Alastor," Dumbledore said calmly. "As an Auror you should know that things happen at their own time, never at ours."

"Yeah, yeah," Moody grumbled. "But your boy Snape in there, he ain't getting his part done. I'm starting to wonder if his heart's in it any more."

"So much for constant vigilance," a dry voice behind Moody spoke. "Losing your touch, Moody?"

"Of course not, Snape," Moody replied, without turning around. "I've had my wand on you since you flew over the hedge."

"Where is Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked immediately, not bothering with pleasantries for once.

"Potter and Weasley took him," Snape said. "The leaders of the Grand Coven are inside. They have taken von Necros hostage and are threatening to kill him at midnight unless I return with the Dark Lord before then."

"There's a bright idea," Moody said, sarcastically. "Threaten to kill one of your own. That's going to work out well for them."

"They believe I have gone to find the Dark Lord," Snape said. "Or at least, they believe I am pretending to make the effort. They will not honor their side of the bargain."

"When do vamps ever do that?" Moody added.

"This does complicate the situation," Dumbledore, who had been thinking, now said. "If they do kill von Necros, Harry and Ron, whom he Made, will revert to human form."

"Assumin' they haven't gone Dark yet," Moody reminded him.

"If that has happened we have little hope of success," Dumbledore said, grimly. "We cannot enter Malfoy Manor until we have been told it is Voldemort's headquarters, and only Voldemort himself can do that."

"Until then, we're out here sitting on our thumbs," Moody finished, sourly.

=ooo=

The flight from Wiltshire to the cliffs near Dover had taken a little over an hour, by Harry's estimation; though it was still well before midnight. Voldemort had offered little resistance during the flight, though he made no effort to fly on his own — Harry and Ron were forced to support him during the trip, and at speeds approaching 100 miles per hour it was difficult for even vampiric strength to hold onto a dead weight.

But at last they were standing on a stretch of rocky cliffs overlooking a black, churning sea, waves crashing against boulders and outcroppings of rocks below them. Ron stared down from the cliff at the jagged rocks and icy waves below him.

"I like it," he said to Harry.

"_Where's the Horcrux_?" Harry demanded of Voldemort.

The Dark Lord pointed to an outcropping of rocks in the distance. "Over there is where I Apparate to, then descend into an opening in the cliff wall. Inside is where the locket is hidden."

"Let's go, then." Harry and Ron each grabbed one of Voldemort's arm and flew to the boulder, landing harder than they intended, though the Dark Lord seemed not to notice. Harry and Ron exchanged looks. They'd both forgotten what happened when they tried to cross open water. Voldemort pointed to the cliff wall.

"See that fissure there, where the water is swirling into?" he said. "That is the entrance."

"Not very big," Ron mused, giving Voldemort a calculating look. "You may have to swim in."

Voldemort looked at him disdainfully. "If I had my wand —"

"But you don't," Harry reminded him, pointedly. "You don't have a chance of getting away, Tom. Don't even try."

Voldemort turned sharply to Harry at the mention of his real name, but said nothing. "It is a difficult climb down, without magic," he said, sullenly.

"We can fix that," Harry said, and he and Ron each grabbed one of Voldemort's arms and floated down over the rocks until they were just at the edge of the water leading into the cliff wall. "_Swim inside_," Harry commanded, then he and Ron let go. Voldemort dropped into the freezing waters, gasping as the coldness bit into him like knives, then he recovered and began swimming, disappearing into the crack. Harry and Ron stared at the swirling water. This presented a problem. If they entered the water they would become paralyzed and unable to move.

"Any ideas?" Harry finally asked.

"Lots," Ron said. "But they all involve being able to use a wand," he added, glumly.

"We have to think of something fast," Harry said, urgently. "I don't want Voldemort spending too much time in there alone. He may be able to get his locket in the time it takes us to figure something out."

"Then maybe you should have ordered him not to do anything until we got inside," Ron snapped, testily. "You're the one running this show, you know."

"We need —" Harry stopped himself from saying her name. There was _no way_ he'd put Hermione in this much danger. He changed what he was going to say. "We need something we can ride inside, like a boat."

"Brilliant observation, Sherlock," Ron quipped humorlessly. "You don't happen to have one on you, do you?"

"No, Harry said slowly, "but I know where to get one. Hang on." Harry flew straight up, back over the cliff, then flew along its length toward a small town they'd seen while flying here. The cliff got smaller and smaller until it disappeared just outside the town, so it had a normal seashore. Harry hoped there'd be a couple of small boats near the pier.

There was. The boat Harry grabbed was not big, perhaps eight feet long and about three feet wide; small enough to fit inside the crack in the cliff Voldemort had swum into, he hoped. Flying while carrying boat was clumsy, but he managed it, and landed on the jagged outcropping of rock next to Ron.

"Excellent!" Ron said. "And you made good time — it's only been five minutes or so!"

If that was a jab Harry decided to let it go. He dropped the boat into the water. "Climb in," he said, tonelessly, and he followed Ron into the boat, sitting down across from him.

Ron looked around. "Now what?" he asked. "Did you bring any oars?"

"No," Harry said, concentrating. "I think I can — ah ha!" The boat had started moving of its own accord. "One of the Coven members was able to throw me aside without touching me," he said. "If he could push me without touching me, I figured I could make this boat move on its own."

"Now _that's_ brilliant!" Ron said, genuinely impressed this time.

The crack opened into a narrow passageway that was would have been pitch black to human eyes; the boat was just narrow enough to slip through. The passageway curved to the left, then continued on for some time. Ahead of them Harry and Ron could hear Voldemort's labored breaths as he swum; he was clearly unused to doing things by his own power.

Just as it seemed they would catch up with the swimming Dark Lord, the passageway opened into a large cave, and Voldemort was walking up out of the water, his robes streaming water as he shivered in the cold, still air of the cave.

Voldemort stared at them as the boat touched the topmost step in the water and stopped, and Harry and Ron leaped nimbly onto shore. Harry looked around then turned to Voldemort. "Where is your Horcrux?"

"Hidden," Voldemort said. "We can go no further without my wand. I don't suppose you brought it?"

Suspecting deceit, Harry delved into Voldemort's mind, but found nothing there. Riddle really believed he needed his wand to open the hidden entrance to the room beyond this cave. But there were ways around that, he knew.

He took Voldemort's arm and led him to the section of wall where the doorway was hidden. "Watch," Harry said, drawing a fingernail across his palm. Blood streamed from his hand, and Harry brushed his palm against the rough rock. A blazing silver outline of an arch appeared in the wall and the blood-smeared rock within it vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed total darkness. "Come on," Harry said, leading the way through the arch. Ron gestured for Voldemort to go ahead of him, then followed him inside.

They passed into an eerie place, finding themselves standing on the edge of a great, black lake, in a cave so large even vampiric vision could not make out the roof or far sides of it. Off in the distance across the preternaturally calm water was a misty greenish light from what looked like a small island out in the lake. Harry instantly divined that this was where the Horcrux was. But oh! what an expanse of water stood between it and them!

Ron had seen it, too. "Merlin's pants," he moaned, and Voldemort craftily stared at him, seeming to understand his anxiety. Ron, noticing the stare, said "What?" challengingly, and Voldemort looked away.

"Is that where the Horcrux is?" Harry asked. Voldemort nodded.

"How do we get out there?"

"Without a wand, we cannot," Voldemort said. "I have a boat hidden beneath the waters, but without magic I cannot raise it."

"If that's the only problem," Harry said, amused, "I've _got_ a boat."

"It will not work," Voldemort said, but Harry detected deception in his voice.

"We'll risk it," he said. Then, moving at vampiric speed, he ran back to the outer cave, pulled the boat from the water and raced back into the lake cave. He dropped the boat into the water, watching as the splash and ripples disappeared much quicker than usual. Nothing else happened, and Harry gestured for Voldemort to enter the boat. "Sit, and remain still," he commanded when Voldemort was in the boat. He didn't want Riddle trying to tip them over, in case he'd figured out that vampires couldn't move through water. Voldemort said down meekly and made no other motions. Ron and Harry stepped into the boat as well, seated themselves, and the boat pushed off from the shore headed toward the greenish glowing island in the lake's center.

"Hey, look," Ron said, pointing at the water. Harry looked; beneath the placid surface of the dark water he could see pale shapes — shapes with arms, legs, hands and heads. There were bodies beneath the surface of these waves.

He looked at Voldemort, who did not meet his gaze. "Inferi," he said. "You have Inferi guarding this Horcrux?"

"Yes," Voldemort said without looking up. "This is Salazar Slytherin's locket. I wished for it to be very difficult for wizards to collect this, should any learn of its existence."

"But not difficult for _vampires_, huh?" Ron said, with a savage grin. "Bet you didn't think of _that_, did you? That locket's as good as ours now."

"You have not reached the island yet," Voldemort sneered, then fell silent.

Only minutes later the boat bumped up against the shore of the island, and the two vampires and the Dark Lord disembarked. The island was not very big, perhaps the size of Dumbledore's office; it its middle was a pedestal upon which sat a stone basin that resembled a Pensieve. It was from this basin that the eerie greenish glow emanated. Harry walked to the basin and looked in.

There was an emerald liquid in the basin, nearly filling it, and this was the source of the green light. "_What is this substance_?" Harry demanded of Voldemort. "_How do we get rid of it_?"

"It — protects the locket," Voldemort answered slowly, the words forced from him by Harry's hypnotism. "It must be drunk to remove it from the basin."

"_What will it do to the person who drinks it_?" Harry asked.

"The potion will make the drinker recall his most horrifying memories in vivid detail," Voldemort responded. "Enough to render anyone incapable of further action. They will then either kill themselves or become unresponsive to any stimuli."

Harry looked at the liquid, then at Ron. "What do you think?" he asked.

Ron looked at the basin with disgust. "_I'm_ not drinking it!" he said, adamantly. "You know we can't drink anything except blood."

"I know," Harry agreed. "That leaves only one person who _can_ drink it…"

"I refuse," Voldemort said immediately. Ron chuckled.

"You don't have a choice," Harry said. "_Drink_."

Voldemort shook his head, but it was a futile gesture. He held out a hand, and a glass goblet appeared from nowhere, dropping into his pale, long-fingered hand. Harry made a mental note: _Voldemort can still perform wandless magic_.

Voldemort scooped a gobletful of potion from the basin and drank it. He scooped another gobletful but hesitated as he brought it to his lips, prompting Harry to say, "_Keep drinking_" to reinforce his command.

By the end of the third goblet Voldemort was noticeably shaky, but Harry didn't detect any changes in his mental state. "_Stop faking it_," he growled, and Voldemort stopped shaking.

"It isn't affecting him?" Ron asked.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "He seems immune to it."

"That would make sense," Ron nodded. "How could he ever get to the locket if the potion guarding it could kill him?"

By the twelfth goblet the locket in the bottom of the basin was visible. "_Take it out_," Harry commanded, and Voldemort reached in, holding up the heavy gold locket.

An expression of rage came over Voldemort's pale, serpentine features. "This isn't it!" he hissed. "Not it!" Harry could tell his surprise and anger were genuine. He reached out and snatched the locket from Voldemort's hand before he could throw it away from himself.

"This isn't a real Horcrux?" he asked. Voldemort, still consumed with rage, shook his head. Harry opened the locket, finding instead of a portrait inside a small scrap of parchment. Unfolding it, he read aloud,

* * *

><p><em>To the Dark Lord<em>

_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can._

_I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

_R.A.B._

* * *

><p>"Who is R.A.B.?" he asked Voldemort.<p>

"Regulus Black," Voldemort hissed, at last having found his voice again. "He betrayed me!" Voldemort was as agitated as Harry had ever seen him — he shook his fists in fury and ranted, "But how could he have found this place? Only I and his house-elf came to this place, and I left the foolish creature here!"

"The _**Black's**_ house-elf?" Harry said, suddenly suspecting what might have happened. "An very old house-elf?"

"Yes, it was old," Voldemort said, dismissively. "I required its services to hide my locket; it was quite amusing to watch the foul little creature writhe in torment as it drank the potion. It could not escape the Inferi once it drank from the lake."

"But Kreacher's not dead," Harry informed him.

"Eh?" Voldemort looked surprised. "He could not have escaped the cave — I cast an Anti-Apparition spell on this entire lake!"

"But house-elves can Apparate and Disapparate through those spells," Ron said. "He could've escaped."

"He obviously did," Harry added. "Well, crap. We still have to find that locket!" He looked at Ron and shrugged. "I have no idea where it might be."

"We still have other Horcruxes to find," Ron reminded him. "What are we going to do next?"

"First," Harry said, looking across the lake toward the shore, invisible from this distance even to his vampiric senses, "we're going to get out of here. Then we're going to break into Gringotts."


	21. And Then the Fight Ended

**Harry Potter and the Vampire's Assistant**

Chapter Twenty-One  
>"<strong>And Then the Fight Ended"<strong>

Updated February 9, 2013

=ooo=

Harry turned to Voldemort. "Can you get us into Gringotts?" he asked.

Voldemort stared at him for several seconds before answering. "They would not dare keep me out!" he snarled.

"That doesn't sound too convincing," Ron snorted. "Besides, my brother Bill told me that the goblins don't really like you much."

"It is not a question of their _liking_ me," Voldemort snapped. "I have promised them a place in Wizarding government after I take over from the weaklings and cowards infesting the Ministry!"

Harry shook his head. "That doesn't mean anything if they decide to betray you once you step inside Gringotts."

Even in the darkness of the cave Voldemort's eyes seemed to flash with anger. "You may doubt me, _vampire_, but my hold over the goblins is absolute. I will be able to get you inside Gringotts. After that, however, must find your own way — the goblins take a dim view of anyone stealing, either from them or of the valuables in their safekeeping."

Harry was silent a moment. "I suppose we'll have to risk it," he said to Ron. "Let's get back over the lake and we'll go from there."

Ordering Voldemort into the boat, Harry and Ron stepped in after him and the small craft began moving across the still, black waters of the lake. They made their way back to the outer cave, Harry carrying the boat so they could navigate back along the narrow channel leading to the cliffs outside.

They finally emerged from the crack in the cliff wall into the black, churning waters of the sea. Harry and Ron each grabbed one of Voldemort's arms and they stepped up onto the rocks they had climbed down to reach the entrance. Harry pointed upward and they rose into the air, flying straight up until they could land at the top of the cliffs. Icy winds whipped around them, but neither Harry nor Ron paid them any mind; only Voldemort looked discomfited by the wind and spray, though he pretended not to notice either.

"London's not that far, is it?" Ron asked, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind. Harry shook his head.

"We should be there in 30 minutes or so," he said. He looked at Voldemort again. "I hope you're right about being able to get us inside Gringotts," he told him, warningly.

"I a-am," Voldemort said confidently, though his teeth were beginning to chatter. "J-just get m-me there, I'll take care of everythi…" The Dark Lord's eyes went suddenly blank. He stood, no longer shivering as Ron stared at him curiously.

"What happened?" Ron asked. "Did you do something to him?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Something else I learned vampires can do — they can hypnotize humans into a state where they don't sense time passing or have any awareness of what's going on around them. Voldemort seemed too eager to have us take him to Gringotts."

Ron nodded. "I kinda noticed that. Do you think he really could have gotten us inside?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "He was lying about that, I could tell, but I went along with it because I want him to think that's where we're going."

"Oh," Ron said, now a bit confused. "So where _are_ we going?"

Harry grimaced. "Honestly, I don't know yet. This trip was a bust — the locket in the cave was a fake, so we're no closer to getting all of Voldemort's Horcruxes than we were when we started here."

"But we're going to crack on, aren't we?" Ron wanted to know. "I mean, if we beat the Grand Coven we can become human again, right?"

Harry nodded slowly. "_If_ von Necros is willing to sacrifice himself."

"He _said_ he would," Ron voice was beginning to sound desperate. "Do you think he _won't_?"

"I can't guess what he might do," Harry shrugged. "He's hundreds of years old. He may have gotten tired of living as a vampire, or he might want to keep on like that — if we get rid of the Grand Coven von Necros will be the oldest vampire left."

"It sounds like you don't trust him," Ron said, worry in his voice.

"It's not that," Harry said quickly. "I just _don't know_ what's going to happen once we deal with Voldemort and the Grand Coven! But like you said, all we can do is crack on and hope things will work out."

At that moment a shining silver bird suddenly swooped down and landed before them. The size of a swan, Harry instantly recognized it as a phoenix. He stepped back, shielding his eyes from its painful brilliance.

The silver phoenix spoke in Dumbledore's voice. "Harry, you must return Voldemort to Malfoy Manor immediately. We need the secret he holds to prevent Baron von Necros from being killed at midnight. Please hurry." The phoenix spread its wings and dissolved into silvery dust, which vanished as well.

"Huh," Harry muttered. "I guess that solves that problem. We go back to Malfoy Manor." He turned to find Ron staring at him curiously. "What?"

"That was Dumbledore's Patronus, wasn't it?" Ron asked. "Why did you pull back from it? Were you afraid of it?"

"It was bright," Harry retorted. "It startled me." Ron stared another moment, then shrugged.

"If the Order is trying to get into Malfoy Manor they'll need the Secret Keeper to tell them where Voldemort is holed up," Harry went on. "And Voldemort's the Secret Keeper. We're going to have to get into Gringotts on our own, somehow. I hope goblins are as susceptible to vampire powers as humans are."

"And assuming we can get to the Horcrux in Gringotts," Ron pondered. "What do we do about the locket, since the one in the cave was a fake?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Well, if Regulus Black was still alive we'd find him and ask about it, but I suppose our next best chance is with Kreacher. Damn! He's up at Hogwarts, though!" Harry frowned, frustrated. "Well, we'll deal with that after we get Voldemort back to Malfoy Manor. Let's go."

They each took an arm of the mesmerized Voldemort and flew off, retracing their flight back to Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor.

=ooo=

Draco frowned as he found himself just outside the front steps of Hogwarts. Dumbledore wasn't going to make it easy for him; the doors would be locked by this time and Filch would undoubtedly bring his late return to the attention of whoever was in charge of the school right now. That was probably Slughorn, Draco decided; he was the senior professor with Dumbledore and McGonagall gone.

Draco smiled grimly. That wasn't going to happen. The Headmaster had taken his other Portkeys, but he had something with him that would help him get inside without alerting any of the Hogwarts staff. He ascended the steps, reaching into a hidden pocket in his robes to remove a nondescript-looking quill given to him by his father a year ago. This quill, when passed over any lock, would deactivate any alarm spells set and unlock it. Draco waved the quill over the large iron faceplate of the lock, smiling in satisfaction as he heard the locking mechanism click open.

Slipping inside, he started for the door heading to the dungeons, then stopped. Was he really going to give up this easily? Was that what the Malfoys did, when things went against them? No, it wasn't, he decided. And he was going to have to do something, and soon — if the Dark Lord came out victorious, and Draco had no reason to suspect he wouldn't — then his mother and father were _dead_. _He_ was dead. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy could not come to such an ignoble end.

He did have one final card to play. He would have only one chance, and he would have to convince someone that worked for the very government the Dark Lord was trying to overthrow that it was in their best interest to stop the siege at Malfoy Manor. Draco reversed direction, running up the grand staircase, heading for Professor McGonagall's office.

The Floo system had been mostly shut down inside Hogwarts, for "security" purposes. It was one of the reasons why Draco had been working on fixing the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement — with every other potential method of access into the castle cut off by the Headmaster, only a few connections remained open — or so he hoped. Even if the connection no longer permitted people to physically Floo into or out of Hogwarts, Draco figured that he would be able to communicate.

The Deputy Headmistress's door was locked, as expected. Draco took out his quill again, passing it over the lock three times before it clicked open. He slipped into the office, moving quickly to the fireplace to grab a pinch of Floo powder from the bowl on the mantle and throw it into the heart. Green flames erupted from the fireplace and Draco spoke the words he desperately hoped would work: "Senior Undersecretary Umbridge's office."

Draco stuck his head into the flames. He could see Umbridge's office, illuminated by the green light of the flames in her fireplace, but it was difficult to make out detail more than a few feet away. "Madam Undersecretary?" Draco called, though he couldn't see far enough to tell if she was seated at the desk or not.

"Who's there?" A high-pitched, girlish voice very close to the fireplace suddenly spoke, and Draco almost withdrew his head from the flames in surprise. "Speak or I'll curse you!"

"It's Draco Malfoy, Madam Undersecretary!" Draco said quickly. Umbridge's face moved into his field of view. This close, he quite understood why his father always said the woman was a toad — her face was wide and jowled, and her eyes bugged as she stared at him behind her rather short wand. "I have some important information for you concerning the Headmaster and the Order of the Phoenix!"

Umbridge's wand dropped out of view, but she was staring at him suspiciously. "What would you expect me to do about anything concerning Dumbledore or his followers?" she asked, sourly. "They have the Minister's _unofficial_ approval to find and stop the Dark Lord. There's nothing I can do about them."

"But they're attacking my home!" Draco said loudly. "Right now, even as I'm speaking to you!"

"Malfoy Manor?" Umbridge frowned. "Why would they attack your family's home?"

"They've gotten some harebrained idea that we're harboring someone there," Draco said. He had to be circumspect — the Fidelius kept him from revealing who.

"Harboring _who_?" Umbridge pressed. "Be more specific, boy — I can't help you if I don't know what's going on!"

"Well, you know — uh, who," Draco said. Even that was hard to say, as close as it was to the name everyone used for the Dark Lord: You-Know-Who. "I don't want to say it over this connection, I don't know who's listening."

Umbridge was giving him a penetrating look. "And what do you expect me to do about it, young Mr. Malfoy?"

"I thought you could — you know — send someone to stop them," Draco said, suddenly wondering if there was anything Umbridge _could_ do to help him and his parents. "I mean, they shouldn't be attacking our home without some kind of authorization from the Ministry, should they?"

Umbridge had stepped back and was looking back at her desk. Draco could barely make her out now that less light from the fireplace was lighting her. "How do you know the Order is attacking your home?" She asked suddenly, leaning close once again.

"I — I was there," Draco said. "Snape g-gave me a Portkey to travel there and take Mother away, but Professor Dumbledore and Moody caught me and sent me back to school."

"Hmmm," Umbridge appeared to think for several seconds. "I don't know what I'll be able to do, Draco. Let me look into it."

"Yes," Draco said. "Thank you, Madam Undersecretary." He pulled his head from the flames, unsatisfied by the exchange. He turned to leave —

— and found himself staring at the diminutive form of the Charms professor, who was shaking his head with a stern expression on his face. "This just doesn't seem to be your night, Mr. Malfoy," Flitwick said, disapprovingly. "I rather think you've earned the detention you're about to receive."

Draco followed Flitwick from the office, hoping that his conversation with Umbridge would be worth the punishment he would receive. With his family as close to a death sentence as it was, anything they might do to him at Hogwarts would pale by comparison.

=ooo=

Dolores Umbridge walked back to her desk, pondering over what the Malfoy youth had told her. He had been somewhat useful during her time at Hogwarts, and she and Lucius Malfoy had a good relationship as his "unofficial" liaison in the Ministry now that Cornelius was gone: she provided him with tidbits of information that Rufus Scrimgeour, who was rather more incorruptible than Cornelius had been, was unlikely to make known even to topmost members of the Wizengamot, and Malfoy in turn provided her with, well, incentives to keep him in the know of Ministry scuttlebutt.

Now, however, Malfoy was in Azkaban, and only the bribes that flowed from Malfoy's vault to select guards at the wizards' prison kept him from becoming a shriveled, miserable wreck of a person like most of the other inmates. She sat down, staring at her desktop, wondering what an action might be. One that would look, in hindsight, like she had taken the boy's words to heart and had acted in the best interests of the Malfoys, but one with enough deniability that she could distance herself from any _unfortunate_ results that might happen at the Malfoy home.

It would be a fine line, she knew. She had managed to regain her position after the investigation into what had occurred at the school after she'd returned to London. It was lucky that the Ministry and the centaurs were not on good terms with one another these days; she had managed to push most of the blame on them for the deplorable actions they had taken against her. She had watched silently as Dumbledore walked into the midst of the surly four-legged beasts and quietly talked them into releasing her. She had even thanked Dumbledore, after a fashion, for getting her out of there, though the gesture had not been sincere on her part.

She grimaced, remembering how difficult it had been when she returned to the Ministry. Fudge had been convinced, somehow, that Dumbledore had been right all along, and was actually supporting him! She'd had no support from him, but fortunately his star had faded. It was only a few weeks later that he had been voted out as Minister of Magic and Scrimgeour was voted in.

In the intervening months since that discouraging time, she had slowly rebuild her credibility with the Minister, working diligently on the issues and programs that Scrimgeour had assigned to her, slowly insinuating her way into his confidence. Scrimgeour was not by nature a trusting man; his years in the Auror Office had made him cautious, and that caution was serving him well as Minister. Except for the fact he hadn't realized that several Ministry officials were Death Eaters!

But there _was_ something she could do. She had retained a few friends among the Aurors as well, and one of them was now on duty in Azkaban. Most of the Dementors had left the prison last summer, but a handful had returned, and they were being put to good use guarding the handful of prisoners that were left after the mass escapes perpetrated by the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. For a small bribe she could persuade him to send some of the Dementors from the prison to Malfoy Manor, just has she had done two summers ago, to Little Whinging, to take care of the Potter boy. That had not worked out the way she'd expected, though she and Cornelius had thought that bringing Harry Potter to trial for violating the secrecy and underage magic use laws would serve equally well. But Dumbledore had once again seen through their plot and successfully defended Potter before the Wizengamot.

Dumbledore and other members of the so-called "Order of the Phoenix" were supposed to be outside Malfoy Manor right now, attempting to gain entry. Unless the magical protection on the Malfoy grounds was much greater than she knew about, they would be inside by now. Umbridge smiled, a wide, twisted grin as she contemplated what would happen when Dementors invaded the manor with orders to Kiss anyone who wasn't a member of the Malfoy household. She began writing the encrypted message that would notify her ally within Azkaban to send a half-dozen Dementors to Wiltshire.

=ooo=

"This is an unmitigated disaster," Snape muttered sourly.

"Severus, you must admit, from what you've told us the situation was quite chaotic," Dumbledore said, calm despite the fact that the time was nearing midnight, the time the Grand Coven had threatened to kill von Necros. "We did not give Harry adequate instructions on what to do should he have occasion to escape with Voldemort."

"Face it, Albus," Moody growled. "That kid is a loose cannon. We're sitting here on our thumbs and he got Voldie off doing Merlin knows what. I know you sent your Patronus to him, but it's been, almost an hour now and he's still not back."

"Patience, Alastor," Dumbledore smiled. "I trust Harry will return with Voldemort. He may be more distant than we assumed — we do not know how widely Tom has scattered his Horcruxes, across Britain or even further, perhaps."

"Voldie would keep those things pretty close," Moody growled. "You found Gaunt's ring in that wreck of a house they lived in, near Little Hangleton, and Lucius Malfoy had Riddle's old diary, probably since before Voldie tried to kill the Potter boy. If you're right about the Hufflepuff Cup and something of Ravenclaws, I expect we'll find them somewhere in England proper as well."

"But well-protected," Snape added, quietly. "The Dark Lord would take measures to assure his Horcruxes were well hidden and unreachable by all but the most powerful and intelligent wizards."

Dumbledore turned to give Snape a smile, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, I don't know, Severus — the ring I found in the Gaunt house was simply placed under a floorboard, unguarded by any spells."

"But it had a powerful curse on it," Snape reminded him, his black eyes going to Dumbledore's withered right hand.

"Yeah," Moody's electric blue eye spun toward the headmaster as well. "You should've detected that spell straightaway, Albus — why the devil did you put the ring on, anyway? What were you thinking?"

Dumbledore did not answer; he had turned his attention skyward. "I believe our two young friends are returning," he said, quietly. "I sense their presence."

Moody's attention had turned upward as well. "I see 'em," he muttered. "They've got Voldie with them, thank Merlin. Now we can get this show on the road!"

"The Grand Coven will sense their arrival as well," Snape warned. He too was looking upward, watching their approach. "We will have to proceed quickly if we are to save von Necros."

Moody snorted. "Ain't he gonna kill himself anyway, once this is over? He might just as well let those other vampers do it and save himself the trouble."

"The concern was that Harry and Ronald might have been in a situation where their powers were needed," Dumbledore answered, though needlessly — Snape and Moody already knew why Harry and Ron had to get back to Malfoy Manor with all haste. "Ah, and here they are now."

Harry and Ron, with Voldemort held between them, touched down in front of the three men. "We've brought him back," Harry said to Dumbledore. He and Ron let go of the Dark wizard, who stood unmoving as the other regarded him warily.

"You have him mesmerized," Snape deduced immediately. "I assume to keep him manageable during your flight here. He did not want to return to Malfoy Manor."

"He thought we were going to Gringotts," Harry answered. He looked at Dumbledore. "He told us one of his Horcruxes is in the Lestrange vault — a cup owned by Helga Hufflepuff."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "I suspected as much. Riddle took that and a locket owned by Salazar Slytherin from a witch named Hepzibah Smith."

"He told us that," Harry concurred. "We went to get the locket, in a cave off the coast of Dover, but it had been replaced with a fake locket by Regulus Black."

"This is all very fascinating," Snape said, dryly, "but it is only minutes before midnight." He turned to Voldemort. "_Awaken_."

Voldemort's eyes fluttered open. He looked around, clearly surprised to find Dumbledore, Moody and Snape standing before him. His red eyes fixed on Harry. "You said we were going to Gringotts, boy!"

"I asked if you could get us _into_ Gringotts," Harry countered. "I never said we were going there."

"We are wasting time," Snape snapped. "_Dark Lord, face me_!" Voldemort turned to Snape, his red eyes seeming to fade as he fell under his hypnotic spell. "_Tell us the secret location of your hideout_!" Harry and Ron both watched, surprised at the ease with which Snape had assumed control of Voldemort.

"Lord Voldemort m-may be f-found at M-Malfoy M-Manor," Voldemort muttered tonelessly.

Dumbledore turned toward the manor gates at the end of the drive leading away from the country lane where they stood. "Ah, there it is," he said. "Amazing how effective the Fidelius can be, even when you know where the place being hidden is located."

"I can see inside now," Moody announced. "The three Grand Coven vamps are still in the drawing room. Von Necros is there, too. And we've got someone standing at the front gate."

"That's Yaxley," Harry said. "I hypnotized him and ordered him to the gate, to let in anyone who showed up. We should be able to go right in."

"Thinkin' ahead," Moody grunted approvingly. "That's the kind of vigilance I like to see, Potter." He and Dumbledore walked up the drive to the now-visible gates, where a slack-faced Yaxley watched dully at their approach, obediently opening the gates for them.

"Thank you, Mr. Yaxley," Dumbledore said courteously as they passed by him. Moody merely grunted.

They had left Harry and Ron standing with Voldemort and Snape. Harry and Ron looked at each other, then started to following the two wizards back into the Malfoy estate. "Stop," Snape ordered suddenly.

Harry whirled around. "What?" he demanded. "We're not going to just stand here while —"

"While I have no doubt you would find some way to muck things up if you returned to the manor," Snape cut over him. "It is Dumbledore's wish that you two remain out here, safe from harm, while the Order cleans up your mess."

"_Our_ mess?" Ron said, outraged. "_We're_ the ones who've been trying to —"

"_Silence_," Snape ordered, and Ron's voice cut off in mid-word. "You will remain here with the Dark Lord. Other Order members will come to learn the Fidelius secret so they can gain access to the Malfoy estate as well. _Do not disobey me_." And with that Snape seemed to vanish, though to Harry's vampiric senses he merely took flight at speed, heading toward the roof of the Malfoy residence.

"Gaak," Ron rasped, trying to make his vocal cords work again after Snape's exit. "I didn't think he could do something like that to us," he said, hoarsely. "I thought only the vampire that Made us could control us."

"He's got the Grand Coven's blood in him, Ron," Harry said. "Snape might be more powerful than any one of those three Coven leaders."

"Hello, Harry, Ron," a deep voice said, and Harry turned to see Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Dumbledore informed me that you had the Secret Keeper, ready to divulge his secret." He looked at Voldemort with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion. "Harry, will you persuade our 'friend' here to speak?"

"_Tell him the Secret_," Harry ordered, and Voldemort repeated what he had told Dumbledore and Moody. Shacklebolt nodded to Harry and Ron then strode down the driveway toward the estate grounds. Several other Order members appeared in short order: Minerva McGonagall, who clutched at her chest upon seeing Harry and Ron, but listened to Voldemort tell the secret then moved on; Bill Weasley, who stared at his brother for a long moment, then grinned and said, "I see the rumors of your death were somewhat exaggerated, little brother." Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin appeared next, followed by Fred and George Weasley; both of them grinned as they saw who was guarding Voldemort. "Should've known you two would've found a way to beat the Reaper," Fred or George said. "Can't wait to hear about it," the other said, then both of them ran up toward the manor after listening to Voldemort's secret. The sound of magical explosions and bursts of light were coming from the manor by now; both Harry and Ron watched, biting back their frustration.

"This is just bloody wrong," Ron muttered, watching the spells light up the rooms of Malfoy Manor from one side of the building to the other. "We should be in there helping them!"

"Dumbledore doesn't want to take the chance we'll be killed," Harry said knowingly. "We're so close to being human again."

There was a cold chuckle next to him, and he turned to look at Voldemort, who had an expression of cruel amusement on his pale, snakelike face. "Human," he said, condescendingly. "When you could be so much more. Even being a vampire such as you are now is better than being a normal, _mortal_ human."

"_You_ went another way," Harry pointed out. "Murdering people just to tie yourself to the world. Not that it gained you much — we'll find your Horcruxes and destroy them, and then what will you do?"

"Ah, Harry Potter, you understand so little of magic and what it is capable of achieving," Voldemort sneered. He gestured to his own body. "The form I wear now will live for several hundred years, much longer than the lifetime of any normal wizard. I have made it resistant to damage from curses and from physical injury. It can resist even a Killing Curse — and your blood has made it resistant to your touch now. You and your mother's benighted blood protection spell can no longer harm me. I will be alive when everyone you know has been dead for a century.

"Even if all of my Horcruxes are discovered and rendered useless, I can make another, one that will be carefully hidden and protected," Voldemort went on.

"Not if you die before then," Ron growled.

Voldemort only smiled evilly. "Who will do that? You? Mad-Eye Moody? Albus Dumbledore?" He pointed at Harry. "No, the prophecy has said that only Potter or I may kill one another, and while Potter could possibly kill me as a vampire, he is afraid to do so and become irrevocably Dark and unable to become _human_ again!"

"Don't be so sure," Harry said threateningly. "If it gets rid of you and your evil, I could be persuaded to drain you dry!"

"Do you think that will _kill_ me, Harry Potter?" Voldemort said, mockingly. "My body will replace the blood drained from me within minutes. You would need a _legion_ of vampires like yourself, continually draining blood from me to keep me helpless! And eventually even that legion of vampires would be sated on my blood, unable to drink any more. And I would live again!"

Harry said nothing, thinking. Voldemort's blood had been the vilest he'd ever tasted, even worse than animal blood. If he was telling the truth, even a true vampire couldn't drain more than a half-dozen humans in a night; trying to kill Voldemort that way would be futile. It was too bad von Necros hadn't known that — Harry and Ron's deaths would never have been necessary. "Dumbledore thought I could kill you. If I become human again, we can try it that way."

Voldemort laughed loudly. "I welcome your challenge, Harry Potter! We will see just who is the more powerful wizard!"

"Don't forget what happened with our wands," Harry pointed out, his anger at Voldemort beginning to simmer. "My wand beat your wand!"

Voldemort waved off the comment dismissively. "I will procure another wand, a more powerful one that I've been told has existed for hundreds of years."

Ron suddenly looked highly interested. "Wait a minute — you're talking about the Elder Wand, aren't you?"

"How do _you_ know about the Elder Wand?" Voldemort asked, sharply.

"_Everybody_ knows about it!" Ron snorted. "My mum used to tell us 'The Tale of the Three Brothers' when I was a kid. In the story Death gave the oldest brother the most powerful wand that ever existed."

Voldemort growled. "That old fool," he muttered. "He was spinning a tale or me! But no — I made sure he spoke the truth… The Elder Wand _must_ exist! He would not have dared lie to me!"

"You're talking about Ollivander," Harry said, his anger building. "You had him kidnapped from Diagon Alley!" These thoughts were plain to see in Voldemort's head. "He's been a prisoner at Malfoy Manor all this time."

"Part of my plan to deny Britain's wizarding community the best wands available." Voldemort's tone was indifferent. "I have kept Ollivander's inventory for my own war efforts." He looked smugly at Harry. "Do not pretend you would not have done the same thing, Potter, if wanted to win a war against the likes of Dumbledore and the Ministry."

"I wouldn't have kidnapped a defenseless old man and held him prisoner!" Harry retorted, angrily.

"Then you are weak and doomed to fail against me," Voldemort sneered.

"Says the guy who's being held by two teenaged vampires," Ron sneered right back. "You look pretty pathetic for a Dark Lord who…" Ron shook his head, looking pained. "…who…uh…"

"Ron, what's wrong?" Harry asked, but at that same moment he felt something pulling at his thoughts, making him feel, well, bad somehow. Were the Grand Coven members attacking them in some way, trying to weaken them?

But Voldemort was smiling triumphantly. "You are about to meet some of my allies, Harry Potter — ones you have met before, I understand, and which you have not fared well against in the past."

Harry glared at Voldemort, but he now recognized what he was feeling — like he would never be happy again. And that could mean only one thing.

Dementors.

The first time Harry had come across Dementors had been on the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of his third year. A coldness that went beyond flesh and bone, down into his very heart, had overcome Harry. He'd heard screaming and fainted. A year later, two Dementors had attacked him and his cousin Dudley a few blocks from his home on Privet Drive. He managed to repulse them with his Patronus, but his cousin had nearly been Kissed. What they were doing here — now — at Malfoy Manor could only have something to do with Voldemort being here.

"You called them here?" he hissed at Voldemort, who smiled coldly and shook his head.

"I did not," Voldemort said. "But I will use them to my advantage, nonetheless."

Ron had fallen to the ground, covering his face with his hands and whimpering in fear. Harry felt as if he should have fallen as well, but his reaction to the Dementor was not as bad as he'd expected it to be. He saw it at last: a tall, tattered gray cloak gliding toward him from the darkness, its dead, eyeless visage barely visible beneath the hood. It stopped a dozen feet from them. Ron was huddled on the ground, facing away from the Dementor, his face buried in his arms. He was shivering. But Harry's initial reaction to a Dementor had been even worse than Ron's was now! Harry felt pressure from the Dementor wanting to drain the happiness from him, but he was resisting it. Voldemort didn't seem much affected by the Dementor, either.

Then it spoke.

"_Dark human_," the Dementor seemed to be addressing Voldemort. Even though Harry could hear its voice, its mouth wasn't moving. "_Our patience wears thin. We require sustenance. You have removed many from the wizard prison, depriving us of food. When will more wizards return to the prison, so we may feed properly?"_

"I will replenish your food supply after I take control of the Ministry," Voldemort replied. "That will be very soon — in a few weeks, in fact."

"You're kidding yourself," Harry interjected. "You know the Grand Coven plans to make you a puppet under their rule! They will probably want the wizards you would send to Azkaban for themselves."

Voldemort looked askance at Harry. "You understood the Dementor, Potter? Interesting."

"Interesting? Why?" Harry wanted to know, but Voldemort was addressing the Dementor once again.

"Why have you returned to Azkaban?" Voldemort demanded. "You should be roaming across Britain spreading despair amongst the wizards and Muggles!"

"_We go where there is food_," the Dementor replied. "_But it is nearly gone, now, and many more of us have come into being. We require even more food_."

"You will have it," Voldemort replied, "but you must be patient. My plans are nearly complete."

"No they're not," Harry said. He looked directly at the Dementor. "He's lying to you!"

The Dementor hung before them for long seconds. It seemed to Harry as if it were thinking. Until now he had never heard a Dementor speak a word, none at all. Why could he understand it now?

"_Vampire_," the Dementor said at last, to Harry. "_Do you ally yourself with the Dark human_?"

"What? No!" Harry said, but Voldemort cut over him.

"The vampires have joined my cause," Voldemort said quickly. "They will share Muggle and wizard lives with you, once I rule Britain."

"That's a lie!" Harry said loudly. "The Grand Coven will control you and all wizards and humans in Britain! They don't want to share with anyone!"

The Dementor did not respond for some time. When it did, it pointed a black, skeletal hand at Harry. "_We are allies with the vampires. It has been thus for many years. You desire their blood — we desire their happiness. But now you say the vampires break our alliance_?"

"No!" Harry said. He had no idea there was an alliance between dementors and vampires. "Only the Grand Coven!"

"_They lead all vampires. Will not all vampires do what their leaders tell them to do_?"

Harry pointed at Malfoy Manor. "They're inside right now!" he said. "You can ask _them_ if they've broken the alliance!"

"_We shall_," the Dementor rasped. It turned so it was facing Voldemort again. "_Dark human, if the vampire leaders control you, how will you provide food for us_?"

"They do _not_ control me!" Voldemort hissed. "They are mere creatures! No matter how powerful they are, they can be defeated by sufficiently skilled wizards!"

"_Wizards call us creatures_," the Dementor replied, in its sepulchral voice. "_They kept us from increasing our numbers by forcing us to stay at the wizards' prison and limiting our food supply. But there are few of us now at the prison, and we feed well. Our numbers increase. Soon we shall leave there once again and find more food. We no longer follow you, Dark human_." The Dementor moved toward Voldemort, who backed away fearfully.

"Wait!" Harry said, reaching for his wand even as he realized he no longer had it. "Don't!" he cried, not sure what the Dementor planned. A moment later, to his horror, he found out.

A blackened, decaying hand reached out and grasped Voldemort's neck. His red eyes were wide with fear, his lipless mouth opened to scream, but Harry heard only a rattle as the Dementor pressed its mouth to Voldemort's. The Dark Lord's limbs thrashed uncontrollably, but there was no escape from the Dementor's Kiss. Voldemort slumped to the ground, his eyes open but unseeing.

The Dementor floated up and away from Dark Lord's body. "_Vampire_," it hissed at Harry. "_We honor our alliance with your kind. The wizards have destroyed the vampires inside who betrayed us. We return to the wizards' prison, to continue to feed_." It floated up into the sky; Harry could see other Dementors floating up to join it. They melted into the night sky, merging with the darkness, and Harry could see them no more.

"Unnnnngh…" Harry turned toward the moan; he'd forgotten about Ron! His friend had crumpled onto his side. Ron opened his eyes — the first thing he saw was the body of Voldemort lying nearby. "What — what happened t-to him?"

"Kissed by a Dementor," Harry said. It suddenly struck him as funny. "We spent so much time trying to find his Horcruxes we never thought about getting rid of the bit of soul inside _him_!" Harry put out a hand, bending over his friend to help him to his feet, and Ron reached up and took it but shook his head. "Hold on…a second…" he said hoarsely. "I feel weak… That Dementor nearly drained me…"

But Harry had gone stiff. The sensation of Ron's hand in his was not the same it had been. He could feel warmth…a _pulse_. "Ron," he said softly. "You're human again."

Ron looked up at Harry uncomprehendingly, then down at his own hands. He put his hands to his neck. "I can feel it!" he said excitedly. "I can feel my heart beating! What about yours?" He reached out and grabbed Harry's wrist.

Harry's wrist was cold. "Bloody hell," Ron whispered. "Why haven't you changed back?" Harry just shook his head. He would have to hope Dumbledore would know what was going on.

=ooo=

Harry's mind was whirling wildly as he waited silently with Ron for the Order members to emerge from Malfoy Manor. Ron's heartbeat was hammering in his ears, but he could still hear the faint patter of beats coming from inside the manor. He was listening for voices as well, but if Dumbledore and the others inside were speaking they were magically silencing their voices to outsiders, Harry surmised.

Ron kept touching his wrists, his neck — anywhere he could feel a pulse. After a minute or so he took a deep breath. "Whoa — that feels good," he said, then glanced guiltily at Harry. "Sorry, mate."

Harry shook his head, as if it didn't matter, but he still asked himself, _What could I have done to keep myself from changing back to human_? He'd been careful not to kill anything except animals — at least, he reminded himself, as far as he knew. In fact _Ron_ had gotten closer to killing Malfoy than Harry had; only he and Snape had prevented it from happening. He'd drank unicorn blood, but so had Ron, and they had obtained the blood with permission, or had gotten if from someone who had. He and Ron had both drank blood from humans, but not enough to seriously harm or weaken them. It didn't make any sense, Harry told himself.

It seemed like a long time before anyone emerged from Malfoy Manor. Harry recognized Lupin and Tonks, arms wrapped around each other's shoulders; he could sense they had both been hurt — Lupin was limping slightly and Tonks had a bandage wrapped around the top of her head. Harry could see that her hair (what was showing) was a flaming red, almost the color of blood.

Kingsley walked out next, looking unharmed, followed by the three Weasley brothers, Bill, Fred and George, who were talking quietly among themselves; Harry could overhear Bill saying "he made quite a sacrifice, I can't believe he's gone," and Fred and George agreeing he (whoever he was) would be missed. They looked up, seeing Harry standing next to Ron just past the gates to the estate, and fell silent.

Everyone reached the gate around the same time, and the group gathered around Ron, who was still sitting on the ground not far from Voldemort's motionless form. "Hey, Ronnie," Fred or George said, and he looked up at them, smiling.

"Check it out," he said, holding out an arm for them to feel. "I'm back to normal!"

"As normal as can be expected," Bill said, with a small smile, but he had a corner of one eye on Harry, who was looking toward Malfoy Manor, anxious to find out what had happened. Only three Order members weren't accounted for as far as he could tell — Moody, McGonagall, and Dumbledore. And Professor McGonagall didn't count — she wasn't a "he." Oh — he had almost forgotten about Snape! The thought of Snape dead didn't strike Harry as particularly welcome at the moment. He hadn't been a well-liked man at Hogwarts over the past six years, and he had not made things easy for Harry or Ron during their time as vampires (which now seemed to be over for Ron), but he had fought with them and the Order against the Grand Coven. That had to count for something, in Harry's mind.

"So what happened to Snake Face?" Fred asked, nudging the Dark Lord's body with one foot. "He seems pretty pacified."

"A Dementor Kissed him," Harry said. "Once it realized he wasn't going to be able to provide food for them after he took over the Ministry, it turned on him."

"Wicked!" Fred and George said.

"That's something we hadn't considered," Bill said to Lupin. "What can he do now if a Dementor has eaten his soul?" Lupin nodded thoughtfully.

At that moment another person emerged from Malfoy Manor. Harry could tell even across the distance it was McGonagall, and her face was red and streaked with tears. Would she be that distraught if Moody or Snape had been the one killed? Harry didn't think so. He felt like screaming. The curse in Dumbledore's hand, the one from Marvolo Gaunt's ring, would have killed him before the fall term began, but it was such a waste anyway.

Hard on Professor McGonagall's heels another person emerged, the limping form of Alastor Moody. He managed to catch up with her, and put a hand on her shoulder. Harry watched as the two of them walked down the drive to the gate. Moody stopped and looked at the group, his electric blue eye spinning in its socket as usual. "I sent him on to Poppy," he said gruffly. "She'll take care of him until we get back an' decide what to do next."

"What happened inside?" Harry asked, his voice tight.

Moody snorted. "What d'you think, Potter? We took on the Grand Coven. And they certainly gave us a run for our money!"

"Even without magic they're pretty powerful," Tonks said, looking at Harry for the first time. "A lot of spells don't affect them at all, or only for a moment before they healed. You've got to put a silver blade directly through their heart to really hurt them!"

Harry nodded; the silver-tipped arrow Hagrid had shot through his chest had nearly done him in — if it had hit his heart… But that still wasn't getting to what he wanted to know. "Tell me what happened to Dumbledore?" he demanded.

"He practically took on those three Grand Coven vamps singlehanded," Moody growled. "They were fighting Lupin, Tonks and Shacklebolt, one of 'em waved his hand an' Lupin went flying against a wall, then Dumbledore stepped in and they all went after him. I never saw him do stuff like he did today — they couldn't touch him at first."

"But he seemed to get tired," Tonks added.

"Yeah, he was movin' a mite slow there at the end," Moody admitted, "but I figured he was trying to lure them in closer, maybe to grab him and drain his blood. I'd say it worked — they all leaped at him, and then there was that flash of light —"

McGonagall drew a ragged sob. "When we could see again, the vampires had disappeared and Albus was — Albus was…" she couldn't finish.

"How d'you know they're gone?" Harry wanted to know. "They might have flown away while you were all dazzled."

"They are gone," another voice said in a dry, sallow tone. Harry looked around to see Snape standing behind them. "I would have sensed if they had merely escaped rather than been immolated by Dumbledore's spell."

"And von Necros?" Harry asked, glancing toward the now-human Ron, who was talking quietly with his brothers.

"He was killed by Drakul," Moody replied.

"Protecting me," McGonagall spoke up. "I entered the room too soon, before everyone was set to go in. They nearly managed to hypnotize me before he attacked them, breaking their hold on me. Drakul tore off von Necro's head with his bare hands. It was horrible."

"But it had the beneficial side-effect of allowing Ron to become human again," Lupin spoke. His voice sounded tired and in pain. "The question now is, why wasn't Harry returned to us as well?"

"That's something _I'd_ like to know, too," Harry remarked, feelingly. He looked around at the wizards gathered around him. "Any ideas? I was going to ask Dumbledore, but…"

Ron had stopped talking to listen to Harry. "You didn't kill anyone when I wasn't looking, did you?" he asked, only half-jokingly.

"Ron!" Bill said sharply. "Not funny!"

Fred leaned down toward Ron. "Good one," he whispered. Only Harry heard him.

"But it's a valid question," Moody added, seriously. "Potter, did you kill anyone, even a Death Eater, when you were inside the Malfoy place?"

"Of course not!" Harry snapped angrily. "I've been careful!"

"I don't know how you might have turned Dark any other way," Lupin said thoughtfully, ignoring Harry's anger. "You and Ron took Voldemort in order to locate his other Horcruxes, is that correct?" He gestured to the motionless form of Voldemort lying nearby.

"Yes," Harry nodded, calming down a bit.

"Did anything happen when you touched any of them?" Lupin asked.

"We never even found a real one!" Harry complained. "He took us took us to a cave off the coast of Dover where he'd hidden a locket, but the real one had already been stolen by Regulus Black and a duplicate left in its place. He noticed it was fake right away."

"He just _told_ you where his Horcruxes were?" McGonagall said, disbelievingly.

"Well, I had to _make_ him tell us," Harry admitted. "He resisted my hypnotism, so I drank some of his blood to force him to obey."

Moody, Lupin, Tonks and Shacklebolt all looked at one another. "What do you think?" Moody asked Lupin. "Could that have done it?"

"It's possible," Lupin replied, slowly. "But Harry also drank blood from von Necros, who was Dark, though he no longer chose to kill humans for food. If that wouldn't turn him Dark, I don't know why Voldemort's blood would."

"The vampires told us that drinking You-Know-Who's blood would eventually turn you Dark," Ron spoke up, remembering.

"I thought they were lying," Harry muttered. "To keep me from being able to control him." He looked over at Lupin. "What if I drink some unicorn blood? Will that cancel out the effects of the Dark blood?"

"There's no way to know that, Harry," Lupin replied. "Dumbledore told me you've already drank unicorn blood, to become powerful more quickly than a normal vampire would. I don't think any more is going to have an effect now."

"Well, at least we're rid of one problem," Moody rumbled, glaring down at Voldemort body. "He ain't exactly dead, but he might as well be, if he's been Kissed. I'd like to know why the Dementors turned on him."

"They want food," Harry said. "They realized that if he was under the control of the vampires he couldn't be counted on to keep their food supply coming."

"How do you know all that?" Moody asked, giving Harry a penetrating look.

"The Dementor who Kissed him told me," Harry said.

The only sound was a gasp from McGonagall. "Harry, that can't be!" she said, looking anxiously at Moody. "Only — only —"

"Only Dark beings and creatures can talk with Dementors," Moody finished for her, his voice hard. "That's always been the Death Eaters' advantage over us with them. They can talk to Dementors — we can't."

Harry was dumbfounded. "What — what about Azkaban?" he asked, confused. "How do you keep them at Azkaban if you can't talk to them?"

"Well, now you how to get a job there," Moody replied, coldly. "You kill someone you shouldn't, or cause some innocent's death somehow — it puts a Dark taint on your soul." He snorted. "For most of my time in the Auror Department there was a pool on when I'd end up there. But I did my job too well for them to waste me in a place like that."

"And where does that leave _me_?" Harry asked fiercely. "I don't _feel_ Dark! What am I going to do now? I can't go back to Hogwarts with Ron — I can't do magic anymore! And I don't want to remain a vampire — I might as well die myself!"

"Harry, don't say that!" Ron gasped. He looked around at the others. "There's got to be something you can do to help him!"

"There may be," Snape spoke quietly. "I may be able to brew a potion that will reverse Potter's vampirism."

"Who are you kidding, Snape?" Moody said, disbelievingly. "There no such thing — Dumbledore would'a told me about it if there was."

"Nor was there a potion to turn a wizard into a vampire," Snape retorted dryly, "until I created one. I also created a potion to act as antidote to the first one." He produced a vial from within his robes. "This will restore me to normal. Afterwards, I will brew another batch of the antidote. It should take only a few weeks."

"Harry was made a vampire in the normal way," Lupin pointed out. "How do you know your antidote will restore him?"

"I don't," Snape replied flatly. "But it is a chance we will have to take." He pulled the stopper out of the vial and tipped its contents into his mouth. He had no sooner replaced the stopper than he fell to the ground, writhing in pain. As the others looked on, a yellow pallor slowly seeped into Snape's pale white features. He retched, vomiting up blood, then rolled onto his back and was still.

"I can hear his heart beating again," Harry said a moment later. "It worked."

Lupin bent over and felt Snape's neck. "He has a pulse," he said, standing again. "It did work."

"Great," Harry said, bitterly. "Now I have to wait for Snape to brew that potion again before I can be human again — _maybe_."

"At least there's a chance, Harry," Ron said. He was giving Harry an almost pleading look. "You've got to try."

"I'm not blaming you, Ron," Harry said shortly. "I drank Voldemort's blood, nobody forced me to do it." He looked around at the other wizards. "Look, I need to go think about stuff. I'll — I'll talk to you later, Ron." Before anyone could say anything Harry leaped upward, vanishing into the night sky.

"I'm not too sure about that," Moody said a while after Harry was gone. "We can't just let a true vampire run around doing whatever he wants."

"That's Harry Potter you're talking about, man!" Lupin said, outraged by Moody's implication. "He's not just going to suddenly go Dark on us!"

"If he's talking to Dementors he's _already_ Dark," Moody disagreed. "An' now he's pissed off that he's didn't turn human again when von Necros bought it. There's no tellin' what he might do. We're going to have to make sure he's not allowed to run free until after we try Snape's potion on him. Agreed?"

Lupin frowned, but there was truth in Moody's words. "I don't like it," he said, "but…agreed." Slowly the other Order members there nodded their agreement as well. Their mission now: Get Harry Potter!

=ooo=

Hermione opened her eyes. She was still in her soft, cozy four-poster bed, warm and comfortable, while Draco Malfoy, she had heard through the prefects' grapevine was right now undergoing detention in Professor Flitwick's office for being caught out of bounds after he'd been warned to stay in his common room.

_Something_ had awakened her, but she wasn't sure what. She was tired, but she didn't feel sleepy anymore; something was making her want to get up. She wasn't about to go wandering about the castle at this time of night, but maybe if she sat in front of the common room fire for a while, she'd get sleepy again. She threw on a night coat and slippers and padded down the stairs to the common room. The fire there was burning low, but she sat down in a plush chair near the fire and levitated a few pieces of firewood into the fireplace. In a minute the fire was burning warmly again.

"Hermione." The voice startled her, and she looked around, trying to see the person who'd said it. She recognized his voice, but why was he here, now?

"Harry?" she said, softly. "Where are you?"

"Here," he said, suddenly in the chair on the other side of the fireplace. No one had been sitting there a moment ago. "I need to talk to you."

"Of course," she said immediately. "How are you? How's Ron?"

"Ron's fine. We fought Voldemort and the other vampires tonight," Harry said, not looking at her. "We won. The vampires are dead — _really_ dead, I mean — and Voldemort is gone."

"Good," she breathed, then realized what that might mean. "Did you —?"

Harry shook his head. "He was Kissed by a Dementor," he said. "His body's alive but it doesn't have a soul anymore."

"How horrible!" Hermione said, and Harry managed a wry smile at the idea that someone could feel sorry for a person like Voldemort. "But," she went on in a very low voice, "what about his Horcruxes? They have fragments of his soul in them as well. What if someone put one of those fragments back into his body?"

Harry looked surprised. "I hadn't thought about that," he admitted. "I suppose we'll have to find the rest of the Horcruxes and get rid of them, to make sure nobody can do that."

"We? You mean you and Ron?" Hermione appeared a little crestfallen. "You don't want my help now?"

"Ron's human again," Harry told her. "Von Necros, the vampire that Made us, was killed in the fight with the vampires at Malfoy Manor. Ron became normal again."

"Oh. Good," Hermione frowned. "But what about you, Harry? Didn't von Necros Make _you_, too?"

Harry nodded slowly. "But I drank Voldemort's blood," he said, looking up at her. "Whatever was in his blood, it kept me from becoming human again."

"Oh no!" Hermione was aghast. "And there's nothing you can do to become human again?"

"Snape thought there was a way," Harry said, bitterly. "He made an antidote for the potion that turned him into a vampire. But that probably won't work on me, I actually _died_ to become a vampire." He stood, walking slowly back and forth in front of the fire. "Hermione, I need to ask you for a favor."

Hermione answered immediately. "Anything you need, Harry. You know that."

"I — I need a place to stay for a while," Harry said. "I can't go back to the Chamber of Secrets — they know to look for me there."

"Why would they look for you?" Hermione asked. "They know you're not like those other vampires."

"Mad-Eye doesn't," Harry disagreed. "He thinks I've gone Dark. He may want to capture me, maybe even kill me."

"Why would he think you've gone Dark?" Hermione persisted.

"Because I can talk to Dementors now," Harry answered.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "But only Dark creatures can talk to —"

"Exactly," Harry finished, grimly. "I'm already guilty in Moody's eyes. Or Eye. Whatever. I just need some place to stay while I figure things out. Any ideas?"

"The Room of Requirement," Hermione said after only a moment. "Nobody can go in after you unless they know why you need the Room. You've already proven that with Malfoy."

Harry nodded, but there was still a snag. "But I can't open the Room, only a witch or wizard can do that, you know."

"I can open it for you," Hermione answered immediately. "You can stay there as long as you want. I'll even come visit you every chance I have. I can tell Ron and he can come, too —"

"Not Ron," Harry shook his head. "They'll be watching Ron, expecting him to help me," he reasoned. "If I need to talk to Ron I'll find him, not the other way around."

Hermione wrung her hands. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry this happened to you!" She jumped up and flung her arms around his neck.

Harry endured it as long as he could, then pushed her gently away. The smell of her blood was nearly overpowering his reason — he wanted to sink his fangs in her neck. "Don't worry about it," he muttered, turning his face away. In fact, he almost felt guilty asking for her help; her response to him was a normal human reaction being bitten by a vampire of the opposite sex. They developed an obsession about the vampire who had bitten them, sort of an analog of what Amortentia did to someone. He hadn't understood that at first, when he bit Hermione all those months ago.

"Listen," he said, still not looking at her. "I'll be back tomorrow night after curfew, we can go to the Room then."

"Why not now?" she said, anxiously. "I can…stay with you and we can talk a while," she suggested, smiling. "You don't have to be alone, Harry."

Harry smiled at her, but inwardly he cringed. He didn't want to do this, but there was no choice now…

Hermione blinked, finding herself in the chair next to the fireplace. The fire was dying down. She must've fallen asleep, she decided, stifling a yawn. She'd had a weird dream just now, a dream about — Harry. She stood, sighing, and walked slowly up the steps to her dorm. She hadn't seen Harry in weeks, now. Would she ever see him again, she wondered, or Ron? There was no way of knowing.

Lying down, she stared up at the canopy top over the bed, thinking about the dream she'd had. It was indistinct now, fuzzy. She wished she could see Harry again. She still missed him.

=ooo=

The End

=ooo=

A/N: Well, that's the story. Review and let me know what you think.


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